


The Twistt of Life

by TheWaterGoddess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Magical Battles, Mystery, Plot Twist, Political War, Romance, The Golden Trio, fifth year au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:58:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9627236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWaterGoddess/pseuds/TheWaterGoddess
Summary: After the events of the fourth year, Harry stumbles upon a long lost friend, in his most hated Professor's house. Perceptions are changing, misconceptions are being cleared, and old friendships re-surfacing. The Golden Trio - now Quartet - yet again have a hair raising mystery on their hands.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Beta : Srikanth1808 - Thank you! Your incredible skills as a beta reader have made this story significantly better!
> 
> Also, these are posted chapters from my FF acount. As of now, this story will be going on a short hiatus till my exams are completed.

Harry paced around his room, waiting for Hedwig to return with a reply from Ron and Hermione. School had finished two weeks ago and he'd been writing almost every daybut not once had he gotten an answer. Harry soon got tired of this one- sided conversation and his patience turned to anger before slowly ebbing into anxiety. _'Why haven't they written back?'_ he wondered.

A tapping sound at the window made him turn around; an expression of relief crossed his face as he saw Hedwig with a scroll tied to her leg. Relief morphed into confusion, however, when he unrolled the parchment; the letter wasn't from Ron or Hermione, but from Professor Dumbledore. He quickly read it, wondering what the Headmaster would write to him about.

_Dear Harry,_

_This is regarding your safety and I hope you will not take it lightly. I must request you not to write to your friends as the conversations may not be private. You might be having company soon. Also, keep your remarkable cloak with you wherever you go. Be careful, these are dangerous times._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor Dumbledore._

Harry crumpled the note and threw into a corner of his already messy room. Grumbling, he took his Invisibility Cloak from his school trunk, which, as always, was unpacked. He folded it and stuffed it into his pocket before heading downstairs to tell his Uncle Vernon that there might be someone from 'his lot' who might come to their house soon.

 _'Just how much soon is soon,'_ Harry wondered.

* * *

"Harry Potter," a cold voice hissed as his eyes took in the cloaked and masked people in front of him. " _Again_. Once again that boy has slipped from my clutches. _Crucio_!"

He pointed his wand at a random Death Eater; the wizard fell to his knees, screaming with pain and soon started writhing on the ground. Even after the curse was lifted from him, the man remained on the floor, twitching and jerking abruptly.

Voldemort closed his eyes, recollecting the unusual phenomenon in the graveyard at Little Hangleton and wondered if, by any chance, the boy was more powerful than him…He quickly banished that thought as soon as it formed in his head;, it must have been luck and pure chance. Something that accompanied the boy every time – sheer luck.

"As you can see," Voldemort continued in his cold voice, "our numbers have decreased. Many of my loyal Death Eaters have been imprisoned in Azkaban. Make yourselves a little useful and find a way to break in and free them –" an involuntary shudder passed through the circle of Death Eaters at the prospect of entering Azkaban, "– or face my wrath."

A chorus of 'Yes Master' greeted his ears before he dismissed them.

* * *

Harry woke up in the middle of the night from a very terrifying nightmare, drenched in sweat. For the first time in weeks, he had not revisited the graveyard in Little Hangleton, watching helplessly as Cedric Diggory was murdered by Peter Pettigrew, but this nightmare was, if possible, even worse. If he remembered correctly, then Voldemort was planning to free his Death Eaters from Azkaban!

However, when he woke up at dawn, he only had a faint memory of his nightmare. He quietly draped the Invisibily Cloak over him, went downstairs and let himself out of the house. As he sat on the front steps of the house and looked at the rising sun, he felt he had to warn Dumbledore of something. But a warm weight on his shoulder made him look up to see Hedwig (clutching a dead mouse in her beak) and talking to her softly about inconsequential things, he soon forgot about everything else.


	2. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new character comes into light.

After receiving the letter from Dumbledore, Harry withdrew into his room, coming out only for meals and to use the bathroom. So much so, that even his Aunt Petunia realized something was wrong.

"Alright, that's it, young man!" Aunt Petunia hissed, as she slammed the soup ladle onto the table as soon as Harry sat down for breakfast.

Her voice was low – Dudley and Uncle Vernon were still sleeping – for which Harry was thankful; he didn't want to hear his Aunt's screeching voice early in the morning. He wondered what she wanted now; he had stayed out of her hair for the two and half weeks he was here, hadn't made much noise, eaten as she'd asked him to, and even cleaned his own room., The only downside was that he'd been having constant, regular nightmares; they left him with dull, lifeless eyes and dark circles under them when he woke in the morning. But he always made sure to smother his screams. He told her so.

"Exactly! That's not normal, or right," she exclaimed.

She obviously wanted to say something more when he cut her off with a wry comment.

"And when have you ever considered me normal, Aunt Petunia?"

She sighed, before pulling out one of chairs to sit facing him. "Harry, I may not - er - love you like my own son, or even as a nephew. But, the fact remains that you are my nephew. And I don't think what's going on is right. You're hardly eating, you barely sleep and you almost never leave the room."

He stilled on hearing his aunt's words. He knew she didn't love him, but to hear it out loud…

"You never cared about it before," he scoffed, his eyes narrowing at her. "In fact, how many times have you locked me in? Care to count?"

She blinked, an odd emotion flicking through her eyes, before her shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. "Yes, well, that is true. Although," she added quickly before Harry could open his mouth, "you used put up a fight, sneak food from the kitchen – oh, don't deny it – and I would have to wake you up in the morning myself. Now, it's almost every night you wake up screaming - "

Harry was shocked. How had she found out? He'd been so careful to not scream out loud, lest his uncle or aunt find out and barge into his room to berate him for waking them up…

"What?" he stammered out. "How did you know? I – I –"

"You may try to stop screaming, but that doesn't mean you don't. But that isn'twhat troubles me. It's what you scream about… I never liked your mother, not after what she became once she went off to that – that _school_ of yours. You could say I was jealous of her."

Here, Aunt Petunia's face took on a pensive look, her eyes now looking over Harry and out the window into the distance. "But she was still my sister, and there was a time when we were inseparable. And now, I'm afraid my jealousy and dislike for her transferred to you. For that, I'm sorry… I don't know if you will ever forgive me… but I'm truly sorry, Harry…"

Harry stared at her, trying to see if she meant those words. He looked into her eyes, still staring out the window, and realized what that emotion he had seen meant – it was regret, and shame: regret, for what she had put him through all his life at Privet Drive; and shame at herself for not letting go of her childhood resentment towards his mother.

He decided to ignore his aunt's plea for forgiveness, at least for now; after all, she had treated him unfairly for years, and it wasn't like he could let bygones be bygones so quickly. He asked another question instead.

"What do you mean by 'what I scream about?'"

His aunt sighed, as if she expected she wouldn't be forgiven so easily. "I had never heard you sound so desperate before, pleading, so I went to check one night, and after that, every night since. It's usually the same words, 'No! Don't kill Cedric, please, spare him' and sometimes 'Please don't be dead Ginny, please don't be dead' and now recently, you've been crying out for her. Asking her to help you, to –" her voice broke here "– to be with you."

His throat ran dry at her words, because what she was saying was true. After being an unwilling participant – and witness – to Voldemort's return, he had started having dreams of the Chamber of Secrets, and yes, he had been crying out for her, wanting his mother's loving and comforting presence with him. Like a small child, he had been crying for his mother. And to think that Aunt Petunia had heard it. Was that what made her change her mind? That he was not sweet, perfect Lily, but her son? A boy, who had not lived a perfect life, who had nightmares of people dying at such a young age? Did she realise that he had to plead for the life of his friend, and his best friend's sister?

"Is that why you're talking to me like a normal person now, Aunt Petunia? Because you realised that I've faced horrors no one should have faced?"

"You're just a boy! I'll admit it now; no one should have to face such a thing. Hearing you plead for someone to be alive… yes, that's what broke me. It made me realise I couldn't hate you anymore –"

Something in him snapped. "Then how could you hate her? How could you blame mum 'for getting blown up'? Do you even know what happened that night? No! You don't! Did you know that she begged – _begged_ – that monster for my life? To kill her instead –"

Then suddenly she had her arms around him and he was sobbing dry tears into her shoulder. She began running her fingers through his mop of hair, and he soon fell asleep from exhaustion.

* * *

When Harry woke again, it was evening. The rays of the setting sun poured in through his window. And that's when he jerked upright. Something was wrong about the window… Of course! The bars! They were gone. After it had been pulled out before his second year, he had returned to find the re fixed. It seemed as if his aunt had them removed earlier today. Yes, definitely today, since they were there when he had woken up.

He got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. His face was still pale, but he looked better, more…fresh. His throat, however, was parched. He crept down the stairs to find that his aunt was the only one there. She looked up from her magazine when he entered.

"Ah, good, you're up. Thirsty?" she asked, smiling at him.

Not waiting for a reply, she walked into the kitchen to get him a glass of water. Not that he minded of course.

He followed her and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. Taking a sip from the glass she handed him, he asked, "Where's Uncle Vernon? And Dudley?" His voice came out hoarse.

"They've gone to the supermarket. I'm running low on my cleaning supplies."

He nodded and then, after hesitating a bit, asked about the bars. Her face brightened considerable. "Oh, I told Vernon to remove them yesterday, while you were sleeping."

"Yesterday?!" But that meant…

"Yes, you were asleep for one and a half days. You must have been exhausted. No nightmares either."

They spent a comfortable evening in each other's company. She told him stories about her childhood, and they laughed together at some of his mother's accidental magic exploits. She slowly loosened up and her smiles became warmer. When Dudley and Uncle Vernon returned, they retired to the living room to watch the telly and left aunt and nephew to catch up on fourteen years' worth of conversation.

* * *

His stay at Number Four, Privet Drive drastically improved after that conversation, and for the first time he began enjoying his summer holidays. It was a week later that that something turned up which truly surprised as well as confused him.

He had been eating breakfast with his family (yes, he could actually call them family now, instead of relatives) when the sound of letters, being pushed through the slit in the door, was heard. He got up to collect, since he was already done.

There were the usual bills of course, a letter for Dudley (perhaps from a school friend) and finally one for him. He was surprised; Dumbledore had told him he wouldn't be receiving letters from anyone this summer. Then who would have sent him one? He returned to the dining room, handing out the letters to everyone else before carefully examining the envelope of his letter for clues. Years of playing pseudo- detectives with his best friends had left him with quite a few skills.

He first checked the address. The handwriting was not one he was familiar with. The paper was thick, almost like… parchment! Wait, the address should have told him if it was delivered by an owl. Ah! Of course –

_To,_

_Harry Potter,_

_The smallest bedroom,_

_No.4, Privet Drive,_

_Little Whinging,_

_Surrey._

He was now sure it was sent by someone magical. Only owl posts had such precise addresses. Honestly, who would ever write his bedroom on the envelope? And the letter had also arrived in the same way his Hogwarts acceptance letter had. That meant he did not know the writer or the writer thought him to be a muggle (which was unlikely, one of the perks of being famous).

But, then why would the writer put glamour on the parchment to look like ordinary paper? For there was surely some glamour; he could feel a layer of magic coating it, trying to make it appear normal. It was well done, for muggles to overlook it, but not someone who knew magic. And the ink, it was clearly a quill ink and not a ball point pen ink.

Ignoring his aunt's look at how he kept turning and squinting at the letter, he carefully opened it.

_Dear Harry,_

_I don't know if you remember me, but I'm hoping you do for this may sound selfish, but I need you; your company, your friendship –_

Harry paused, who was this? The writing did seem familiar, but the way it was written it sounded as they were bosom friends.

_– I – I've returned to England. My father, he… he just - got ki – passed away,_

Big fat tear drops had clearly fallen here, and it looked as if her father did not pass away, if her crossed out words were any indication.

 _…and I've come to live with my uncle. It's just like how I used to stay with my grand-mere, you know. I'm fine here. Doing okay_ (another tear drop) _and… oh I'm rambling. I returned from France 3 days ago. My l'école there was grand. Remember I told you about it… when we were 8 or 9…_

Eight or nine? Who was this… oh! It couldn't be! Or could it? She had disappeared, or rather left England when she was ten years old. Left for France, to go to her school there. He remembered asking her why she couldn't go to a High School here, in England. So that they could see each other again, but she had told him it was a different… special school in France. Now he understood: it must have been Beauxbatons.

 _My uncle's house is huge; it has to be, it was our family house. It would technically belong to Mon père but since he's dead…_ (Family house? She must have been a pure blood) _It is in Edinburgh, the house, I mean. And the countryside is wonderful. There's a small wood behind the house. It's part of the property. Mon père would have loved it here…_

 _I know I have not written in long while, and we cannot go back to being the siblings we were then, but please write to me? I have friends back in France, but none of them were as close to as you were… are, even after 5 years. I know we got separated because of me shifting, but I won't let that come between us again. I… I've kept a secret from you for a long time._ ('Secret that she was a witch?' he wondered) _I was afraid it would separate us… but now I don't think so. I want to talk to you Harry; I want to pour my heart out to you. Be all sentimental and sappy like we were before_ (there were a few more tears here that threatened to smudge the words, but she must have used the non-smudging ink) _I will be going to a school in England_ (was it Hogwarts?) _like you've always wanted. And we will be able to communicate again. I'm sending my address on a piece of parch paper, if you consider writing to me. Please, brother, write to me._

_Your loving sister (?),_

_Ella._

He sighed and looked up to see his aunt, uncle and cousin looking at him inquisitively.

"An old friend I never thought, I'd hear from again. Apparently she shifted back to England since her father passed away. She wants to know if she will ever hear from me again… after she gave no explanation as to why she disappeared."

"Did she leave you her address?" his aunt asked.

"Yes."

He gave her the small piece of parchment he found inside the envelope.

She looked at it –

_Louella Prince,_

_No. 8, Royal House,_

_Willow Lane,_

_Edinburgh._

It was a simple address, not too fancy, and it seemed respectable.

"Do you want to write to her?"

"We were… close, like siblings. And she has finally returned. But it was a long time ago. I don't even know what to say to her any more. She may be different now, so…I really don't know. What do you think?"

"Your mother," she began slowly, "tried to mend things between us after we got married. But it was such a long time since we had last spoken, that I never replied to a single letter of hers in cowardice. If I had… who knows what would have happened?"

"So...you think I should write back to her?"

"Yes, although that's not all that is troubling you, is it?"

"It seems that the reason she left was because she was a witch."

He looked at his aunt. Her face had a frown on it. What irony: his mother and aunt had separated for the same reason Ella had left him – magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How is it? Ella is going to play an important part in the story. I'm trying to make her character a little like a typical Slytherin that easily fits with Harry's own inner Slytherin. I would appreciate some help with that.


	3. An Order Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Hermione enter the story! :)

The wind whipped past her, making her dark brown curls that she had so carefully pinned down come loose. Her black eyes glistened with unshed tears. Where her fair face was usually vibrant, it was now tear-stained.

_'Oh Papa, I miss you!'_

Louella turned away from the balcony and went back to her room. After her father's death, her only guardian, an uncle, had been sent for. His work had not allowed him to leave England for extended periods, so she had to move back from France to her family's ancestral house.

Not that Royal House was any less like a home to her, but it was difficult living forever in a place where she and her father used to come before, for short holidays. Memories of her father taking her horse riding in the woods at the edge of the mansion, and teaching her swimming in the pond near the green houses, rose unbidden in her mind. Being the sole living heir of the Prince family, she had inherited all the family properties from her father upon his death, and now controlled all the Prince vaults. She and her uncle had decided, in everyone's best interests, that they would take up residence here at Royal House.

Her uncle was her father's paternal cousin; even though he did not carry the Prince name, he was first in line to be her guardian. She had met him only a couple of times, and that too, when she was eleven, before she began her schooling at Beauxbatons.

It wasn't that she couldn't speak to him; he loved her as much as one could love a niece they have met a handful of times. But he was not a person whom she could talk to about how she felt, and certainly not one whom she could expect comfort from. Her father and uncle had met later in life, so they too had only established a cordial, and not familial, relationship.

She wished she could talk to her friends, but it was not possible. Though her classmates were good company, she never felt close to them. She had always certain expectations in any friendship she made – expectations that were set because of one boy – Harry.

Harry, her childhood friend, who was always so kind and helpful to her; who, even with a horrible family himself, had always managed to make her laugh and forget that she lived with her strict grandmother because her father was in a coma.

He was loyal and always stuck by her, even when she scraped her knee and blubbered all over his too big shirt or when her muddy hands would wipe themselves on his pants. She knew he would be punished for messing up his clothes, yet he did not mind. He was a good friend, a true friend, whom she had given up.

Given up because he wouldn't have been able to follow her into the magical world; wouldn't have been able to understand if she were to speak about her classes and sports. Because he was a muggle.

Oh how stupid she was! What did it matter that he was not magical? What did it matter if she was across the country in a school he could never attend? She should have told him about it – the wizarding world and all its wonders. He would have stayed by her, she knew. He would have been her friend throughout it all. And when she needed him now, she realized what she had given up.

Would he still remember her now? The girl he had called his 'sister' in those glorious years of friendship? The girl he had called his 'first and best friend'? The girl he had begged not to leave, not to go to a posh school in France, just because it was her parents' school? Back then, she had told him it was very selfish of him to ask her to stay in England instead of going to Beauxbatons. That he should have understood that she wanted to go to the school her late mother had attended. She had asked him if he would not feel the same about his dead parents' school. And his reply… oh! How it stung her now.

_"If the choice, Ella, was between my parents' old school and my sister's friendship and company, I would always choose you."_

_"You say that now," she had said, "but what about when someone comes to tell you that you could go to a school your parents went to?"_

_"I will always choose you. Because they are gone; no matter how much I wish they were here, they are gone. But you will be here, are here, with me. Please…don't go away…"_

_"I'm sorry Harry, I'm leaving…"_

_There was a long, awkward pause._

_"When?"._

_"The twentieth of June. Next month."_

_He had stood still for a long time, before he'd asked, "We…we will still meet, won't we? You'll come to meet me sometime, won't you?"_

_"Harry, I – I don't think so… I don't think we'll ever meet again."_

_His crestfallen face broke her heart. "I'm sorry."_

_"Don't be." he said harshly. "Be happy, your father's out of coma, you're going to your parents' school… be happy. W – We had some good times…" He had turned and walked away then, and not once did he look back._

She had not seen him since then and her grandmother and father had thought it to be for the best. They had said that they would forget each other soon. It was for the best. He was a muggle – he would never have been able to fit in with them. And she had believed them.

She wished she could write to him now, to talk to him somehow. She no longer cared if he was a muggle. Was magic truly that important? Among all her friends, she would say that her childhood muggle friend was far better than the snobbish witches and wizards of Beauxbatons.

Yes, she would write to him. She would ask him to give her another chance. She was back in England now, and she would be going to Hogwarts – a school on the Isles – just like he had asked her all those years ago.

_'Please, don't leave. There are many posh high schools in Britain… do you have to go to France?'_

As soon as she thought about it, she could not get the idea out of her mind. She had to try to contact him at least once. She had his address; she desperately hoped it would be the same – after all, it had only been five years. _'Five years is too long a time…too late to rekindle a friendship'_ , a voice whispered in her mind.

She ignored it and went to her desk and pulled out some parchment, ink and a quill. She had just dipped her quill in the ink well and was about to begin to write something, anything, when she realised she didn't know what to write. What do you say to your childhood friend who you left quite abruptly more than five years ago? So absorbed was she in pondering this, the tip of her quill poised above the top of the parchment, that she jumped when a loud knock sounded on her door, almost toppling the ink well over.

"Come in!"

Her uncle opened the door and sat himself down on her bed facing her. He looked at her for a long moment, "I miss him too. But he wouldn't want to see his daughter mourning him for a long time. It's been three weeks, Louella. Look back and cherish the happy times you've had –"

"It's not that!" she cut him off. "I mean, I do miss him, but…I'll miss having someone to talk to, someone who knows me…" she trailed away. It was true though; even though she had had very little time with her father – five years to be exact – he had known her best. Even her grandmother, with whom she spent her entire childhood, did not know her well enough for her to have a really heartfelt talk.

"I am aware that I will never be able to take his place, but I shall try my best if you wish to…talk."

She smiled at him. He was not too good with emotions, but she knew he would try to be her confidante if she chose to tell him. But it was not him she wanted to talk to. No, the only one who would understand was Harry. Harry would know how she felt and understand what she wanted.

"Thank you. I shall…think about it."

"Very well." He stood up from the bed. "Come Louella, I suspect lunch is ready," he said, as walked out of the room, robes billowing behind him.

"Yes, Uncle Severus."

* * *

Harry, keeping up the charade and pretending to be ignorant of magic, pulled out normal muggle paper and a ball point pen to write his reply on. He didn't want to give her any clue that he was a wizard. He was sure she was a witch, but when she had kept it from him for such a long time, he wanted to see how she would explain it all. He wasn't letting her off the hook though, nor was he going to become best friends with her again.

It had hurt when she left, and even though he never went to see her after knowing the day she would leave, he felt she could have at least tried to meet him one last time. She could have kept up some semblance of correspondence even though she thought him a muggle. Friends are not made and broken by categorization of birth – magical or otherwise.

He wrote her a letter, short and slightly formal. It would give her a chance to make the first move. If she decided to explain all about magic then he would forget her last goodbye and treat this time like a reunion. If she kept him in the dark, writing only because she wanted comfort after her father's death and planned to leave again because she thought he was a muggle…well, he didn't know what he would do if it did happen. He knew it was harsh, but she was his first friend, his only friend then, and she knew it. And for her to leave him like that…

At least Ron and Hermione would never leave him. After all they'd been through they were practically inseparable.

_'Ah, but what about now? They seem to have forgotten you now, haven't they? They should have tried to write…even if Dumbledore forbade it…they should have found a different, safe way…'_

He pushed the annoying voice out of his mind and put the letter in an envelope and stuck a stamp on it. Ignoring Dumbledore's words about owl post being unsafe, he called Hedwig to him.

"Hey girl, I need you to do something for me," he gave her letter, which she clasped in her beak. "Take this to Louella Prince in Edinburgh. Drop it in the muggle post box. And you must not be seen. By anyone! Not Louella or Death Eaters or Dumbledore. Travel by night if you have to, it's not safe, and I don't want you to be hurt."

She gave a muffled hoot and took off, speeding away in the darkening sky. He watched her till she could no longer be discerned through the far away clouds. As he turned back towards his bed, a sight from his second year revisited him.

Dobby the house-elf, now wearing an old faded toddler's T-shirt and khaki shorts, a small towel around his shoulders and two mismatched socks on his feet, had silently popped into his room and was bouncing on his bed.

"Dobby!" he exclaimed softly.

"Hello, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is very happy to see you again!" The bat-eared elf squealed and gave another bounce before jumping off the bed to stand next to him.

"I – how – what are you doing here, Dobby?!"

"Dobby has come to meet Harry Potter, sir! Sir's Wheezy and Grangey be sending Dobby to meet Harry Potter, Sir!"

 _'Wheezy? Grangey?'_ he thought. "Oh!" it dawned on him, "Ron and Hermione!" He smiled widely at Dobby.

Yes, they truly were the best friends ever!

* * *

Louella spread her toast liberally with butter and jam, before eating it. Across the table, her Uncle Severus had forgone his breakfast in favour of the monthly Potion's journal, and was flipping through it looking like a harried thirteen year old before exams.

It was now exactly five days since she had sent out her letter with her owl, Whiskers, (it honestly had whiskers instead of feathers near its beak!) and she had not yet gotten a reply. Of course, she couldn't remember how long muggle post would usually take, but she hoped it would have come by now. That is if he had written back a reply at all.

She remembered that in the end, she had told her uncle about her childhood friend – not mentioning any names of course; she didn't even know his last name. In fact, if she recalled correctly, he had not known it either back then.

Her uncle had advised her to write if she felt that he truly was trustworthy; he had also offered to charm the parchment to look like paper.

"No need to flaunt our magical background. Even the smallest thing can be a clue," he had said.

She had told Whiskers to leave it at the door like a normal postman would. She knew that the parchment and owl's magic would automatically fill the missing last name and address on the way…

She was pulled out of her thoughts when her uncle slammed the journal close and pulled out a thick tome from his robes. Merlin! Exactly what else did he keep inside his robes apart from his wand, a potions kit, a few potions vials, a money pouch and now, it appeared, even books? Really, she shook her head, the wonders of magic.

He slammed the tome shut too with an angry "Drat!"

"What is it, Uncle Severus?"

"This article, that's what! Wilton McHurst, a newly graduated potions master, states in his article that he is conducting a research on the Cruciatus curse." He looked frustrated. In slight disbelief at what he was reading, he continued, "According to him, if Hellebore, Jobberknoll feather, Re'em blood, Moondew, dried Boomslang skin and Mistletoe Berry is added to together in an order yet unknown, it may provide relief to those who have felt the Cruciatus curse."

"What!" Louella put down her piece of bread as she leaned over the table to get a better look. "Is that even possible? Wait… Half of the ingredients don't react well together!"

Her Uncle turned the Journal around so that she could read better and gave her a proud smile,"Exactly Louella! Well spotted. You have the markings of a true Potions Mistress. As you saw, I checked and rechecked, but have not found a way to mix the reactants together – "

Just then the house-elf popped in with a tray of letters.

"Skippy has brought the day's letters, Mistress!"

She nodded and Skippy left it at the table before disappearing. As she was the one who inherited the house, the house elf belonged and answered to her, even though her uncle was the adult. When they had moved in, Skippy had been delighted to see her new Mistress.

Her uncle rifled through the letters: most of them were for him. A letter from Hogwarts, one from the apothecary and another couple of them from a few potion masters – no doubt wanting to discuss McHurst's theory that was published in the month's potion's journal two days ago – were separated, when he came across a muggle envelope.

He silently passed it to her. She looked at her name on the address and tore it open. Holding the folded piece of paper, she looked at her uncle. He was watching her silently, wanting to know more about her new-old friend. She dipped her head to let him know she would read it loudly and he returned her gesture in a sign of support.

"Will you help me decipher the meaning of his words?"

"Do you expect him to write in code?" His tone was sceptical.

"No, but I had ended our friendship. Will you tell me whether he is willing to restart it or end it forever? Even if he doesn't write in code, he certainly knows how to play with his words."

"High intellectual level then?"

"No, but he is witty, and can hold an intelligent conversation. At least from what I knew five years ago."

He nodded. "Read it. And no matter what he says, you can always talk to me. Family will always stick together."

Unknowingly, his words cut her from within. Harry had always called her his family. His aunt, uncle and cousin were just relatives. She was his family, for he always told her that 'friends were the family you choose'.

She shook her head and opened the letter –

"Dear, Miss Prince –" she read, and stopped momentarily. She looked questioningly at her uncle, silently asking the reason for such an address.

Severus Snape frowned; he didn't really approve of her writing to this boy. He didn't know who he was and didn't know if, being a muggle, he would take the existence of the magical world well. And if the boy truly knew how to play with words, then he would have to be very careful. He would have to treat this letter as a coded message and have to decipher it to know the true intention and meaning behind it.

"Either, Louella, he has forgotten who you are, or he is formal to maintain distance, showing that he is not ready for the camaraderie you used to share."

Louella nodded and pushed back her emotions to concentrate on his letter. Something she never had to do before. Previously his letters used to be open and the emotions and meaning behind his words visibly clear. Harry only wrote cryptic letters to those he didn't know well or to those he didn't like. And both options were not something she favoured. At least, she knew him well enough to expect such a letter.

She continued, "I am surprised you remembered, no matter how slightly, my existence as your once childhood friend…"

* * *

Harry had sent off a long letter to Ron and Hermione with Dobby, after enquiring about their health. He had not been able to get the name of the house they were at because of some charm placed over it. Since then, Dobby came over almost each day with some news of Ron and Hermione. Yesterday, however, it seemed as if they had gotten Sirius and Remus into confidence and told them of their secret communication method. Not wanting to pass up a chance to talk to his godson freely, Sirius too had begun sending letters with Dobby.

Dobby was only too enthusiastic to spend time with "The great Harry Potter sir". He shook his head fondly when he remembered introducing Dobby to his aunt and cousin.

* * *

_(A few days ago)_

Dobby had arrived with a note from Ron that they would not be able to send any letters that day, as they had cleaning work to do, so instead of sending him back to Hogwarts – where the elves didn't have much work over the summer holidays – Harry had invited him to meet his family.

Dobby had jumped excitedly for a moment before his ears drooped. "Dobby is not sure, sir. Dobby remembers being told by Harry Potter sir, that Harry Potter's family does not like Harry Potter, sir!"

Rolling his eyes at the number of times Dobby used his name in a sentence, he replied, "You're right Dobby, but we have come to an… understanding now. My aunt is trying to get to know me better and I would like to see how she reacts by seeing one of my closest friends."

The elf's eyes teared up at being addressed as one of Harry Potter's closest friends and happily agreed.

Dudley saw the elf first, coming down the stairs, and squeaked before hurrying into the kitchen to tell his mother about a "tiny monkey-looking creature with bat ears and eyes as big as golf balls!"

Harry grinned at the description as he captured Dobby's tiny hand in his own and led him into the dining room adjoining the kitchen.

They heard Aunt Petunia's distracted reply to Dudley, "An alien creature, you say? Very nice, dear."

"– but mum, it was wearing an odd cape and mismatched socks. Socks!"

Aunt Petunia absently dried a plate, "That's good, Diddy."

Suddenly realising what he was saying, she took off her apron and stepped out of the kitchen to see her nephew holding hands with Dudley's 'alien'.

"Aunt Petunia, meet Dobby, a house elf and a very good friend of mine," said Harry.

She wondered if she should say "That's nice, dear" before running back to the kitchen. Then remembering that she was trying to understand Harry and his world better, she took a seat at the table and saw Dudley follow her example. Dudley too had stopped troubling Harry, and even sat with him while reading his school books. Harry had been glad for the company, and in return helped Dudley with his summer homework. How he managed to understand fourth year Maths and Chemistry enough to even clear Dudley's doubts was beyond her.

She started a bit when the elf spoke, "I is very honoured to meet Harry Potter's aunt and cousin. I is Dobby, Dobby the house elf!"

The elf gave a huge smile and bounced a bit on his seat. She smiled unsurely, "Oh…er… nice to meet you Dobby. What do you do?"

"Dobby is a house elf! House elves cook and clean and take care of the house for their Masters and Mistresses. But Dobby is a free elf! Harry Potter sir freed Dobby. Dobby can cook for Harry Potter's aunt to show how Dobby cooks?"

She looked at Harry to ask him what to do when Dobby chirped up, "Do not worry, Harry Potter's aunt, Dobby will not drop the pudding on Harry Potter's guests again!"

"Again?" she asked faintly and her nephew winced.

* * *

He read the latest letter from Ron and Hermione, which had come early that morning. Apparently there had been a huge argument last night at headquarters (they called the house as headquarters in each letter) regarding his stay at the Dursley's. From what Ron and Hermione understood, Mrs Weasley and Sirius had wanted him to come over to headquarters before his birthday. Dumbledore had shot the idea down declaring it to be unsafe.

Harry snorted. Unsafe? From all he had heard about Voldemort till then, there had been so far only four deaths which they were sure had been Death Eater victims. Two in France, one in Britain and the last one in Italy. All of them were defected Death Eaters: either too cowardly to return or had finally realized that they were following a megalomaniac with delusions of his grandiosity.

He had been surprised to know that Voldemort had a few followers in other countries too. Either that or they had fled, after his downfall, to Italy and Franc – wait Ella… _no Louella, she isn't your friend at the moment_ – had said that her father had passed away in France.

Was he actually a Death Eater who had been killed for not returning to his Lord's side? After learning that Sirius was his godfather, he, Ron, and Hermione had gone to the library and researched the Black Family; where they had also come across other Pureblood Families.

He dug through his mind for the passage that explained in detail about them –

_'Pureblood Families can generally trace their lineage back to a minimum of 100 years or 5 Generations. The Ancient and Noble, the Ancient and Venerable, the Noble and Valiant, the Ancient and Magnificent, the Ancient and Virtuous, the Noble and Immortal, and the Ancient and Royal Houses could trace their ancestors back to five centuries and more. The Ancient, the Noble, the Venerable and the Olde Families could trace their ancestors back three centuries. The newer pureblood families that can only claim a century of wizarding ancestors do not have any title. They are usually bestowed upon the family after a great contribution to the wizarding world._

_At first there were 59 Pureblood Houses. Over time as their line died out, the titles of the House would be taken on by the closest blood descendant, usually the Head of another House. As such many families now carry the blood of some ancient blood lines. The Houses were named according to the accomplishments, wealth, position in society and magical power._

_The Ancient and Noble Houses_

_1\. Abbott_

_2\. Avery_

_3\. Belvin_

_4\. Black_

_5\. Borgin_

_6\. Crouch_

_7\. Fenn_

_8\. Gamp_

_9\. Longbottom_

_10\. Malfoy_

_11\. Meadows_

_12\. Ornith_

_13\. Prewett_

_14\. Prince_

_15\. Yarrow_

_16\. Yaxley'_

Yes, the Princes were an Ancient and Noble House. That meant Louella was a pureblood, or at least a half-blood. He hoped she didn't turn out to be prissy like Malfoy.

What he couldn't fathom, however, was why Voldemort was killing the ones who didn't return to him on the night he returned. It wasn't like he had abundant followers to risk losing a few –

Good Godric! His dream (or was it a vision?) Voldemort planned to break his most faithful Death Eaters out of Azkaban! But when?

Harry ran his hands through his hair, trying to flatten it subconsciously, wondering what he should do now. He'd had that dream almost a month ago, and there was no news of any escaped prisoners – yet. Of course! Voldemort wouldn't break them out immediately, it would need planning. And quite possibly on a special day, like Halloween or Christmas. No, it would definitely be Halloween, it had to be; he always planned something of such a nature on that day. But he couldn't keep this information to himself; he had to inform Dumbledore. At least it would serve as a warning.

Knowing that he had to give up his method of contact with Ron and Hermione, he wrote a letter describing as much of the dream he could remember and told Dobby to take to Ron and Hermione.

"Give it to them," he told Dobby. "Let them read it, and then tell them to give it to Dumbledore. Who knows, they may not even hear of this if I didn't give it to them first."

The diminutive elf nodded and popped away.

* * *

It was during an Order meeting when Dobby appeared in Ron's room at headquarters. Hermione had curled up with a book and had bullied Ron into completing his homework at the same time. They both looked up when Dobby appeared.

"Dobby," Hermione said happily as the elf snapped his fingers to erect the normal privacy charms. "How's Harry? Is he okay? Sleeping well?"

Ron snorted at that and Dobby replied in the affirmative. "Master Harry is being sending an important letter to yous. He is be telling yous to read it before giving it to Mr Dumblydore."

He gave the letter to them and they looked through it quickly.

_'Ron, Hermione,_

_This is important. I had a dream some time ago – about Voldemort. He's looking to break his followers out of Azkaban. It seemed very real though, like the one I had last summer. There is a great possibility that this might take place on Halloween – something always happens on that day! You must tell Dumbledore about it the next time you see him! Oh, and if he asks how you know about this, since I am not supposed to use Hedwig, tell him that I sent this letter with Dobby's help._

_Harry_

Hermione suddenly sat up, her eyes gleaming excitedly, "Ron! There's an Order meeting now. Professor Dumbledore will be there, we can give it to him now."

Both of them jumped up from their seats as Hermione folded the haphazardly torn paper Harry had written on in two, and hurried downstairs.

"Oh, and don't mention Dobby," she added in a rushed whisper.

They brushed passed Fred and George, who were trying to eavesdrop using their latest invention - Extendable Ears, and Crookshanks, who was skulking around as usual.

Banging on the door to the kitchen, Ron called out, "Oy! Let us in! We've got important information!"

Mrs Weasley immediately opened the door, her face red with anger and indignation. "What do you think you're doing, Ronald Weasley? This is an important meeting. Professor Dumbledore does not have time for your –"

"Harry wrote to us," Hermione interjected before Mrs Weasley could rant anymore. "He told us to give it to Professor Dumbledore." She held up the note.

The Weasley matriarch blinked and extended her hand to take the piece of paper, but Hermione moved it out of reach. Mrs Weasley closed the door, and after a few hushed conversations, the door opened again, this time to let them in.

The table in the kitchen was enlarged due to the number of people seated. A few of them were standing for lack of space. At the head of the table sat Albus Dumbledore.

As they entered, they could feel everyone's eyes swivel around to rest upon them. The grizzly old auror, Mad-Eye Moody's artificial eye came to rest on them approvingly. Mad-Eye had been one of the few members of the Order who had wanted the children to attend these meetings. "They won't learn nothing if you keep 'em locked up. This is war, not a game; let 'em know it! Sheltering them won't help, they must practice constant vigilance!"

Sirius was visibly anxious, and Remus also looked concerned. Snape was, as usual, lurking in the corner. While the members who knew who they were looked on inquisitively, the others eyed them with a dismissive look on their faces, unable to believe that they had anything important to say.

"Miss Granger, Mr Weasley," Dumbledore said, "come in. I believe you have some news for us? Though I wonder how you came to have it, if Harry was the one who possessed this knowledge. He does know not to communicate by owl. It is dangerous and may be intercepted."

Both of them stopped short. What were they going to tell him? If they mentioned Dobby, he would realise that even if Dobby worked at Hogwarts, it didn't mean that he was bound by any orders Dumbledore gave as Headmaster. They couldn't give the note to him as he mentioned Dobby in it. Ron was about to make some – any – outlandish excuse when Sirius spoke up.

"Harry is my Godson!"

Almost all the occupants of the room blinked in confusion.

"What a crucial discovery Black!" sneered Snape, unable to restrain himself from making a jab at his nemesis from school. "I believe your IQ finally coincides with you physical age as opposed to your mental age that it was before."

"I wasn't talking to you Snivel –"

"Sirius," interrupted Remus loudly, seeing as both men were once again about to be driven into an apoplectic rage over a petty thing. He turned to address Dumbledore. "What Sirius meant was that Harry, being Sirius's godson, is also the Black Heir."

Murmurs erupted at that; the House of Black was an old and wealthy house, one of the richest in Great Britain. It was wealthier than the House of Malfoy and House of Lestrange and used to be very influential in the olden days. The fact that Harry Potter was now the heir to not only the Potter line, but the Black line as well, would certainly cause people to sit up.

All this greatly confused the two teens and Hermione mentally planned to research the topic of Pureblood Families once more – this time in depth.

Sirius shouted over the cacophony of voices, "Kreacher is bound to serve him, as he is my heir. Harry passed the note through him, as he has been doing all summer."

Ron and Hermione nodded along with him as if agreeing to the story, as Kreacher in no way could be ordered by Dumbledore; the elf would serve only the Black Family.

"What?! That mad old elf –"

"– it's crazy, he won't listen to anyone –"

"– goes on muttering about old Lady Black –"

"– cursing Mudbloods under his breath –"

Ron made a disgruntled noise and shouted, "OI! This is Harry Potter we're talking about; do you think he can't persuade an old house elf to keep his secrets? That elf won't say anything to anyone!"

Hermione nodded, "Besides, we have the message, shouldn't we concentrate on that?"

Dumbledore raised a hand for silence, and as the room quietened down, he nodded to them speak aloud.

...

Severus Snape had absolutely no interest in attending the "major" Order meetings; in fact, the only productive thinking was done by the core members, or the Inner Circle, of the Order. As such, the only thing to be done during these "major" meetings was to take whatever small amount of amusement he could find from watching adults bicker and curse each other like five year old children. He sighed; he would rather prefer spending some time with his niece as opposed to attending these meetings. The fact that Black's house was used as headquarters was simply another minus point.

So it certainly proved to be an interesting day when the know-it-all Granger and youngest Weasley boy had barged in, claiming to have an important message from Potter – he curled his lip there, how would the boy have any knowledge about what was going on when Dumbledore had specifically isolated him? – and that they received it from the insane house elf, Kreacher, who had supposedly taken a liking to the brat.

On top of that, Black had to announce that the boy was now his heir. He scowled inwardly; Potter would become even more insufferable now that he would be receiving the lordship of two important Pureblood Houses.

If Black would not have named Potter as his heir, the Lordship of the Black Family would have passed over to the closest Black relative, in this case Narcissa and her son, Draco. His godson would have become the Lord of House Black, and what a great victory it would have been over Black then. Potter had to foil everything, the foolish, arrogant, selfish brat, just like his father –

His internal rant was cut off when Granger began to speak, "You-Know-Who is planning to break his followers out of Azkaban."

Unsurprisingly, everyone turned to him, "I have not been privy to the Dark Lord's plans, as I'm still under suspicion. He trusts very few with his plans after his return. As such, I have no inkling about his plans to break his followers out of Azkaban."

It surprised him that Potter was the one to provide such information, but was it even true? Or was it just a ploy to gain more attention?

"Does he say anything about when this raid might take place?" he heard Albus ask.

Granger opened her mouth to say something, but then abruptly closed it as she shook her head. In a complete tangent, she asked, "When are we getting Harry out of the house?"

"Quite soon, my dear. He must stay for a bit more time, you see. The protections around his aunt's house are exceptional, and this house is a bit over crowded as you know –"

"Well, then throw them out!" shouted Black. "In fact, I will. This is my house and thus, Harry's house too. I won't have your Order members take up house room if Harry is the one who suffers."

"What protections?" Granger asked suddenly.

"Blood wards, Miss Granger," replied the old man patiently. "You see, anywhere his mother's blood resides, he will be safe!"

"Well that's a moot point then isn't it?" Weasley said incredulously, as if couldn't imagine that Albus hadn't thought of it.

Yes, this meeting was certainly much more enjoyable than the others. And it was all due to Potter's friends.

"Ronald! Be respectful, this is not how you talk to –" the Weasley matriarch spoke up just as Albus asked, "What is a moot point, Mr Weasley?"

"You-know-Who took Harry's blood, didn't he?"

He stiffened as the sudden devastating realization on Albus' face confirmed Weasley's words. What? Why hadn't he known of this before? Neither the Dark Lord nor Albus had seen it fit to tell him! He knew the Dark Lord was less trusting of anyone now, but Albus had no excuse!

"We must move him immediately then! It is only because Voldemort does not know of Harry's location that he is safe now." He looked around at all the members. "Will anyone volunteer to board Harry Potter in their house until 1st September?"

"What?! Wait, this is my godson, Albus, you don't get to decide where he stays! I will be the one who decides. If he cannot stay at Headquarters with me, then I will stay with him. He doesn't care about your stupid Order; he just wants to see his friends, Remus and me."

Everyone was a bit shocked at his outburst. Minerva McGonagall spoke suddenly, "You have told him about the Order? Do you not realise the security risk, Sirius?"

Black just waved her concerns away. "The elf can keep secrets, especially Harry's, very well."

Severus sneered at that. How did Potter manage to make that elf obey him when everyone failed? At Black's words, for some reason, Weasley and Granger sent each other covert smiles.

Albus frowned for a few moments before exclaiming, "Severus!"

"What?" he growled. "No! Absolutely not, I will not agree to have a Potter in my house! I already have a niece to take care of; I will not take care of another teenager."

Before Black and others could voice their own protests, Albus lifted a hand to silence everyone, "That's enough, Severus. You are the only one among us who is living in an old Pureblood House with strong wards. And unless you would like to open your house for other Order members , you will allow Harry to stay with you."

"No," said Black.

And for once Severus was glad he intervened. Perhaps he would be able to convince Albus that this was a bad idea. That Potter would not like to live with the dungeon bat of Hogwarts.

But he simply said, "Harry will stay with me. Or, perhaps the other way round, I will stay with Harry. So you try convincing Snape to make extra room for me, and I will allow this arrangement. And I can refuse, you know," he added seeing Albus beginning to object, "after all, as his Godfather I can do it. As Headmaster of his school you can do nothing."

Half an hour later, everyone left the unofficial meeting room, with it being decided that Sirius and Harry would be staying together at the Prince's House. Both Severus and Sirius would be going to Privet Drive to pick him up in two days, on his birthday.


	4. A Familiar Bond

Chapter 4

There was no need for this, Aunt Petunia," said Harry bashfully.

He looked around the Dursleys' living room. It was spotlessly clean and the table was set with a few different delicacies and a small, cream layered birthday cake. The Dursleys' or more clearly, his Aunt and cousin, were celebrating his birthday for the first time.

"'Course there was, Harry," countered Dudley entering the room with two wrapped presents and putting them on the already filled table.

"Thanks, Dud."

* * *

_(2 Days ago)_

Ron and Hermione hurried back to their rooms after the meeting ended. It had been a very heated discussion, and both Snape and Sirius had left the room with the proverbial thunder cloud above their heads. They had immediately penned a note to Harry, explaining what happened in the meeting and sent it via Dobby.

"Why didn't you tell Dumbledore when You-Know-Who would attack?" asked Ron curiously.

"I will tell him," replied Hermione, "just not right now. There's a long time for the attack to take place. He's already keeping us out of the loop, now we too have some information. Maybe now he'll start letting us in the meetings."

"I don't think so, Hermione. I'm not sure he'll do that for one little piece of information."

"For one piece of information? No. But now that he knows that we've been talking with Harry for a long time, he will think that this is not the only thing that Harry knows."

"Maybe," said Ron uncertainly,

"True, maybe. It's a shot in the dark. Let's see."

They sat quietly for a while before Ron said, "He's going to stay at the greasy git's house!"

"Ron!"

"What? He is a greasy git. And he hates Harry!"

"I know," she sighed, "at least Sirius will be with him. And we'll still be able to talk to him with Dobby's help, won't we?"

"Yeah."

They once again lapsed into a comfortable silence before Hermione remembered her decision to research the different types of Pureblood Families. She pulled Ron out of the room and towards the Black Library.

"Help me look, Ron. Find any and all books on Wizarding Culture and Pureblood politics."

"Hermione, there's bound to be about a dozen books on it in here. Massive tomes of it! Are you really going to read all of it?" Ron asked aghast.

"Of course not!"

Ron sighed in relief. Hermione smirked.

"You're going to read half of them."

At that, Ron groaned loudly.

* * *

(Present: 31st July)

A dark haired man, clad in black, strode down the road to Privet Drive. A huge, grisly black dog, walked alongside the man – more like it ran in front of him and then doubled back to loop around him. The dog's tongue lolled about, dripping with slobber; his eyes alight with happiness as the strong wind ruffled his fur.

The man's annoyance continued to rise as he watched the dog's antics. When they reached the driveway of number four, they could hear the slight sound of laughter coming from within. The huge black dog gave a bark and scratched at the front door with his paws. The man sneered, and instead rang the doorbell.

A sudden silence indicated that they had heard the bell. Short clipped steps approached the door, before it was opened ajar by barely a few inches. Petunia's gaze first fell on the huge beast and barely managed to stifle a surprised scream. But when she saw the man, she couldn't stop from exclaiming, "You!"

At his aunt's shout, Harry hurried towards the door to see who it was, his hand unconsciously going to his sleeve to check for his wand. At seeing the man, he too couldn't stop himself, "Professor Snape!"

"Good to see your mental faculties are well, Potter," Snape sneered. "Now, if you're done announcing our presence to the whole neighbourhood, we should continue this conversation inside," he inclined his head at Petunia. "Quietly."

Sirius, the Grim, barked his consent. Harry grinned at the dog and turned to his aunt. Petunia was looking at both of the visitors with distaste.

"Aunt, come with me for a moment please." He put his hand under her elbow and led her into the house and into a corner.

The wizards took this opportunity to enter the house and close the door. Sirius immediately shifted back into his human form. Petunia gave a small gasp. Harry looked right at Sirius and motioned for them to move to the sitting room, blatantly ignoring Snape.

"Why are they here?" his aunt asked him, cross, "one of them is an escaped convict! And – and I don't want Snape in my house."

"He's my godfather," he said, but at his aunt's expression, he quickly continued, "not Snape! Sirius – he is my god father. He won't do anything. And Snape is a school professor. Dumbledore sent them. I told you about the letter I got from him, didn't I?"

"They've come to take you to some place safe? Today? It's your birthday!" For the first time she looked indignant at someone interrupting his birthday. "And they are uninvited guests. They should have sent prior notice before coming."

"Dumbledore had mentioned that someone would come to pick me up – soon. Apparently, for him, three weeks after sending a letter is soon."

Inside the sitting room, Uncle Vernon and Dudley were sitting quietly across from the wizards; their sudden entrance had surprised them. Sirius had of course taken one glance at the well set table and bound over to take a look. There was a cake, with Harry's name on it, and a couple of gifts beside it.

An owl, the snowy Hedwig, sat on the backrest of a chair. As Sirius looked over the party things, she cocked her head to the side and looked inquisitively at them. Her Harry sent messages to this dog-man many times, but the other man, whose scent was primarily of plants, she was seeing for the first time. But she had felt his magical signature somewhere.

Of course, normal owls couldn't feel magical signatures, but she was special. Her Harry and she had formed a special bond – that of a Familiar and Master. This gave her a lot of new abilities.

Hedwig gave a startled hoot as she realised that the plant-man was none other than her Harry's Potions Professor. She had not heard many good things about him from Harry, so what was he doing here? Were they planning to take Harry away from Privet Drive? Even though her Harry's Aunt had changed her views, she still did not like the way she had treated her Master before. She turned her head to see Harry and his aunt talking quietly; well if Harry did not decide quickly, she would!

Harry turned around when Hedwig gave an especially loud hoot and took off from the backrest of the chair and landed on Sirius's shoulder.

"What?" he asked her irritably, while his Aunt looked at him quizzically. Hedwig gave another hoot.

Sirius covertly put a hand over his mouth to cover a grin. He had heard such a type of conversation before, it usually sounded like a hilarious one-sided conversation to the listeners. Familiar bonds were very rare and could be made only with powerful wizards who had great respect for magic and all different kinds of magical races. Not many could recognise a familiar bond, only those who had a proper pureblood childhood education growing up could. And Sirius was blessed to have seen two familiar bonds in his lifetime, now he was getting to see another. The first two were between Albus Dumbledore and Fawkes, and Voldemort and Nagini.

...

Severus had to admit that, for the first time in his life, he was confused. Utterly and totally confused. He had heard the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, continuously complain over how thin and waif-like Harry Potter had always looked at the beginning of every year. She told them that it was only after slipping nutrient potions into his food for the first couple of months that he looked normal for his age.

From her words, he had gradually taken to admit that he might be wrong, and Harry Potter may not have had the very best of childhoods as he had imagined. Even the insistent pleadings of his friends to get him out of his aunt's house pointed to the same thing. But it seemed that Petunia was not starving her nephew at all, if one went by the birthday cake and delicacies spread on the table.

He scowled – he couldn't believe that spoilt Potter would go to such lengths to enjoy the pity and compassion of others.

...

Meanwhile Harry had realised what Hedwig meant, "Patience Hed, wait for a few minutes, will you?"

She made to take off from his godfather's shoulder, and he quickly hissed, "No! It's too heavy! You stay here. I'll get it in some time."

Sirius guffawed. He immediately shut his mouth under the twin glares of his godson and his owl – no – Familiar. Harry looked at Hedwig, knowing that if he didn't wrap up the explanation he was giving his aunt quickly, she herself would go upstairs and fly down with his trunk in order to leave quickly. He looked at his aunt, and she sighed quietly.

"Go get your things," she instructed quietly, "I'll pack your gifts and some cake too."

He nodded and turned to Sirius to give him a proper welcome before hurrying up to get his trunk. At the same time, Severus barked, "Don't dally around Potter, we haven't got all day! We need to vacate this house as fast as we can, before the Dark Lord realises that taking your blood gives him free access into your home."

Hedwig screeched indignantly at that. If it was only a matter of blood wards, Voldemort would have stormed the house a long time ago. But due to the magic between a familiar and Master, a new, different kind of ward settled around the house her Master stayed in.

It made it impossible for those to enter who wished her master harm. There was a reason no one could raid Voldemort's base, a reason why Hogwarts was regarded the safest under Dumbledore's headmastership. Due to the presence of their Familiars, the place where they resided would be the safest possible place for them.

Harry, not knowing this, took his Professor's word for granted. He just gave a nod to Sirius and bounded up the stairs.

Sirius shook his head. Severus Snape may belong to the Noble and Ancient House of Prince, and even have the pride and potions skill they were well known for, but he didn't have the necessary pureblood education that would give him respect for it. That was what made people look down on him.

Even though his power was above average and blood line, ancient, he did not have the right to speak to anyone with contempt, disregarding their social status. That was what separated the purebloods from others – they had class. And dignity that they always maintained, no matter the situation.

Harry had already packed all of his school stuff inside his trunk. This time he did not have to even pick up pieces of parchment from around the room as he had finished most of his homework early. The only thing that was different was his clothes. His aunt had apologised again and taken him shopping. For the first time he had some decent muggle casuals to wear. His wizarding robes were already stocked, and had no need for new ones. His old hand-me-downs were promptly burned after he got new clothes.

The interior of his room had also changed. The old, nearly broken furniture was replaced and the walls now had a few picture frames of himself and his aunt and cousin. His uncle was not yet seen among them, and probably would not be seen for a long time. And finally there was a moving, wizarding photo of his parents, the only one his aunt owned, that was placed on his bedside table.

As he removed his clothes from the cupboard and put them in his trunk, he thought that for the first time he might actually miss his relatives and Privet Drive. No, not relatives – they were family now. He smiled softly as he shut the lid of the trunk and ran a hand over it to lock it. That was a new locking system; the trunk could only be opened by those who had their magical signatures keyed into it. In fact, the trunk itself was new. It was a gift from Sirius last year. It was the same trunk he had used when he went to school, a trunk from the Black Family's stores.

When Sirius had named him his Heir, quietly, at the end of his third year, in the presence of Ron and Hermione only, he had started paying more attention to books. His education as a Pureblood Family's Heir had begun. Not many knew about his Heir status of course; in fact, apart from Ron and Hermione, only Remus was in the know. Harry had changed his behaviour considerably since then. He needed to reflect a good image of his House.

He realised that wherever they were going today, it certainly would not be The Burrow. So he donned a simple shirt and dark trousers, and over it a simple over robe and with a belt tied around his waist. He looked like a normal wizard, but those who knew about such things would notice that the material of the robe was of a rare and soft fabric. It fit him snugly at the chest and flared down from the waist. That would signify that he was a duellist and hence required free movement of his legs. His muggle clothes underneath would give the message that he believed in equality despite being a part of a Pureblood House. It would also tell that he preferred comfort over the norm of wearing wizarding clothes under wizarding robes.

He did not have the Heir rings of either House (Potter or Black), as the official age for receiving the Heir rings was 15.

Satisfied, he picked up his trunk and walked downstairs. Sirius glanced at his attire and gave an approving nod. Professor Snape barely spared him a glance and looked out of the window at the setting sun.

Harry looked like a proper pureblood in these robes of his. Sirius rushed over to him and gave a big hug. He pretended to sniffle, "My little boy is so grown up! Fifteen! My little boy is fifteen!" He ruffled his hair. Harry made a sound of protest but that was totally ignored.

"By the way," said Sirius normally, as Harry tried to arrange his ruffled hair neatly, "Happy Birthday!"

Dudley snickered at the pair's antics. "Leave it Harry, you hair's not going to stay flat."

Harry mock glowered at him as his aunt re-entered the room with a small carry bag. "I've put in your gifts and a small box of cake. Perhaps you can share it with your friends?"

He nodded and called Hedwig. She flew over from the window sill, where she had relocated herself to, and perched upon his head.

"Hey!" said Harry indignantly. "Just because they call my hair a birds' nest, you don't have to treat it like one!" Hedwig just gave a content hoot.

As Harry had discarded the cage after coming home from his fourth year, claiming that his special girl deserved more than a gilded cage, she had taken to using his bed post or his shoulder as a perch till he bought her, her own perch.

Snape turned around to face them. Seeing everyone ready, he motioned them to move outside.

At the door, he stopped to wave good-bye to his aunt and cousin.

"Write to me Harry?" asked Dudley. "You still haven't told me all about your world and I still need to hear more about those twin red-heads that slipped me that toffee last year."

Snape scowled at the mention of the devil twins ...er...Weasley twins and Sirius transformed back into his animagus form.

"Of course!" Harry assured him with a grin.

He turned to his aunt, and understanding what he wanted to do, Hedwig took off from his head. Harry gave his aunt a hug and whispered in her ear, "I forgive you for everything, Aunt Petunia."

She smiled at him, a sad and happy smile.

And the three wizards and owl disappeared with the pop of a portkey.


	5. A Night At Grimmauld Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... How was it? Harry finally meets Ron and Hermione. And he is the heir to the Gryffindor Family. And that will be the only house he will be the heir to. Can any one tell me if Zacharais Smith is descended from Hufflepuff? I mean...is there a small mention about it somewhere in the books? Beacuse Hepzibah Smith claims to be distantly related to her.

Ron and Hermione were anxiously waiting for Harry to arrive at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. It had been decided that he would first come here, mainly so that he could be introduced to the Order members and also so that the magic of the Fidelius Charm would protect him if they ever decided to safeguard him at the Order Headquarters. When this plan was told to the kids, the first thing that came to Ron and Hermione's mind was – "Thank Goodness!"

Then they realised that their lie would be caught if Harry came here looking like his old self, after Sirius had declared him to be his Heir. And they knew that Harry was not one for dressing fancy, and as Harry did not know of this plan they decided to send ahead a warning so that he could be ready for the small impromptu test, that the two thirds of the golden were sure, the members of the Pureblood House would spring on him.

It had also slipped Sirius' mind that he had announced it to everybody that Kreacher knew Harry well. And that he was more respectful towards him than others. Now how to solve this dilemma? They decided that the best thing to do would be to send Kreacher to Harry and if they got on well – great! If not, they would have to keep Kreacher and Harry's interactions out of the public eye. It wouldn't do for everyone to hear Kreacher curse Harry under his breath if he was supposed to like Harry, right?

Ron, of course, was against this idea from the beginning – "You want to send that batty old elf to meet Harry?" Whereas Hermione was of the opinion – "Oh this will be perfect! Perhaps Harry can free Kreacher and then he will be happy!"

Harry however knew, unlike his friends, that every elf was different and couldn't be expected to behave like Dobby did. And so when Ron and Hermione had quietly asked him to pop up at his aunt's house, Harry had decided that the best course of action would be to act the perfect Pureblood Heir. The moment he heard his mutterings, Harry realised that the poor old elf hadn't been able to get over the loss of his previous master. Pouncing on that fact, he had slyly asked Kreacher to tell him about the Black Family in detail – after all, he was the Black Heir, he would need to know about his ancestors!

Kreacher was overjoyed that he would be able to talk about "Mistress Walburga" and "Master Regulus" and took an immediate liking to Harry. His mutterings about him took a different turn; it went from "filthy half-blood, scum and blood-traitor" to "worthy Heir to the Black Family, kind and good, young Master Harry".

Harry counted this mission successfully accomplished and for the next two days, before any Order member arrived to pick him, Kreacher stayed with him and told him stories of Master Regulus and Mistress Dorea (who turned out to be his paternal grandmother), and sometimes, when he pleaded insistently, stories of Master Sirius's childhood (and while it was mostly about the pranks he had played which got him into trouble, it still made Harry laugh and smile). In the short span of 48 hours he and Kreacher had formed a wonderful bond and Kreacher wanted Harry to move to the Black Townhouse (Grimmauld Place) instead of this "filthy muggle hovel" – in Kreacher's words – so that he could serve Harry better.

Harry sent Kreacher back on his birthday, after Kreacher had wished him, and promised to come to the Black Townhouse (he still didn't know its name because of the mysterious charm) that evening.

Kreacher had left saying, "Then Kreacher will ready the house for Master Harry's arrival and prepare a good dinner for Master's Birthday! Oh yes! Kreacher will make it his best dinner!"

Harry had smiled happily and thanked Kreacher and told him that everyone staying there must be invited, and it should not be a dinner only for him, as Kreacher was likely to do! Kreacher had grumbled slightly at that but acquiesced to his demands. "If Master Harry wishes."

* * *

(At Grimmauld Place, 31st July)

Mrs Weasley looked at the closed – no, not closed, locked – kitchen door in annoyance and slight desperation. Not only was the kitchen the only place the Order members could assemble for their meeting, but it was also stocked with their food and everyone was getting hungry now. All day long she had felt some magic at work, very subtly cleaning up the main rooms - the drawing room, the lounge, the sitting room, the library (though no one had even seen it as it was out of bounds for everyone but a Black), the living room and the kitchen.

She, the children and quite a few Order members had pitched in to help clean the house, but even after weeks of cleaning they were only able to get rid of the creatures and small amounts of dust and dirt. The old, damp and musty feeling still lingered, giving the house a haunted feeling. But in merely one day, this strange magic had succeeded in removing all of that and converting the house into a home.

Each and every witch and wizard had been pleased. They had thought it to be the ambient magic in the house finally acting up to make it habitable for its Master to live in. And in a way it was true; Kreacher was cleaning up the house because, according to him, its Master, i.e. Harry was coming home. At sharp four o' clock in the evening, the kitchen door had been shut closed as Kreacher started preparing for Harry's birthday dinner. Unknown to him, Mrs Weasley was also worrying about same thing. She had planned to prepare Harry's favourite dishes and bake a cake for him on his birthday. But as the door was locked, in a manner that even wizarding magic couldn't open it, she had given up. Maybe Sirius would be able to open it after he came back? Yes, then while Harry caught up with everyone, she could quickly whip up some food for everyone.

She went back to the drawing room where everyone was seated, waiting for Sirius, Severus and Harry to arrive. Just as she was about to take a seat, the doorbell gave a loud ring. She was about to go to open the door, when a small popping sound was heard. Almost all of the Order members crowded at the end of the hall way to see Sirius and Severus return with Harry. The elf, Kreacher, had opened the door; and every one watched in surprise as the usually sour and sulky elf greeted Harry enthusiastically. Of course, that's not to say that he paid any attention to Sirius, who was technically the elf's Master.

…

Sirius, Severus and Harry, along with Hedwig, arrived inside a small copse with the usual pop of a port key. Harry glanced around them as Hedwig made herself more comfortable on his head. If Hedwig was calm and relaxed it meant that they were safe. Not that he didn't trust Sirius, but Hedwig had a way of sensing if danger was approaching him.

"Where are we, Sirius?" asked Harry in a soft whisper. He didn't know why he was being quiet but it felt the rather appropriate.

Sirius, who was fishing around in an inside cloak pocket for something, raised his hand, signalling him to wait for a moment. In a few moments he had what he was looking for. A small, thin piece of parchment was pushed into Harry's hand.

"Read it," ordered Sirius quietly, as Snape looked about cautiously for some unknown threat, "and memorise it."

Harry looked at the parchment. A flowing, elegant and cursive handwriting, he recognised as Dumbledore's, came into view.

_'The Headquarters of The Order of the Phoenix is located at No. 12, Grimmauld Place, London.'_

After he read it, and memorised it as Sirius asked, he looked up, "What do I do with the parchment?"

"Destroy it, you foolish boy!" scowled Snape, and stretched out a hand to take it so that he could burn it and then banish the ashes.

Harry felt affronted; he knew that there was some powerful magic on the parchment, or more likely in the very words itself. But how was he supposed to know why it was so important – oh!

The charm on the House! No wonder no one could speak of its location, not even Hermione and Ron – who were already in the know. It must have been the Fidelius Charm, which was why the secret should not be left lying about. But why would they resort to such drastic measures for protection? Grimmauld Place was also the Black Townhouse; it should have its own set of protective wards, which would make it near impenetrable.

While he had been thinking, they had quietly crept outside the copse, crossed the road and entered the small lane opposite it. A number of houses lined both sides of the lane. The whole lane was dark, with a few street lamps at far away intervals. They came to a stop in front of No. 11 and No.13 Grimmauld Place. Harry looked around surprised that No.12 wasn't present, when it suddenly shimmered into existence between No.11 and No.13.

"The muggles never noticed?" he asked aloud.

Sirius shook his head, "They chalked it up to a mistake in naming the houses when they were first made; that was never corrected." He rang the doorbell and waited for it to open.

When the door opened to show Kreacher, Sirius remembered telling the Order that Kreacher respected and liked Harry. It would be very suspicious if the elf started muttering derogatory comments about Harry under his breath. But the small stirring of dread disappeared and turned to surprise and shock when Kreacher welcomed them, or rather, only Harry with an enthusiastic smile.

"Master Harry has come!" croaked the old elf, "Kreacher welcomes Master to the Black Townhouse.'

…

Snape's eyes widened at seeing that Black's words were true. The elf truly obeyed Potter! What did he even see in him? But at least now the elf wouldn't betray them at any cost. He might not like the boy – or more like, his Potter heritage – and may consider him arrogant and foolish, but he inspired loyalty in people, and magical beings too it seemed, at a level he'd never seen before (prime example – Weasley and Granger). Not even in the Dark Lord's ranks.

Soon everyone settled into the sitting room. Greetings, especially 'Happy Birthday', and hugs had been exchanged and Harry now sat on a couch with Hermione and Ron on either side of him. The three of them, once they'd gotten together, had refused to be away from each other for even a moment, knowing that tomorrow morning Harry and Sirius would be leaving with Professor Snape.

Once seated comfortably the introductions began. Remus indicated to two men and a young woman who wore the same type of red coloured robes.

"Harry, this is Kingsley Shacklebolt, William Marks and Nymphadora Tonks –"

"– just Tonks, please," she interrupted with a scowl.

"– who serve as Aurors at the Ministry," finished Remus.

Harry nodded; the red robes were obviously a part of the Auror uniform.

"Emmaline Vance, a retired ministry employee; Elphias Doge, an old friend of Dumbledore's; Lord Stephen Cornfoot, Head of House Cornfoot;"

Harry inclined his head slightly at him, in respect, as he was supposed to at the Head of a House.

The introductions carried on for a while at the end of which Mrs Weasley stood up.

"Why don't we all move to kitchen? I can quickly whip up some dinner for all of you. I'm sorry I wasn't able to make any special arrangements for your birthday, Harry," she added apologetically.

Harry laughed softly as everyone made their way to the dining room. "Don't worry Mrs Weasley, Kreacher wanted to prepare dinner himself. A surprise party, he said."

Those who heard Harry's words quickly went over to the Dining hall to see the preparations that had been made.

The dining room had been cleaned out and the furniture repaired with elf magic. The dining table had been expanded and more chairs were present than before. The walls were decorated in soft colours, adding charm to the previously dark room. Balloons hung from strings from the ceiling and a magically charmed letters, spelling 'Happy Birthday Harry' floated in the air.

Roast chicken, peas and gravy, mashed potatoes, roast potatoes, tomatoes, sandwiches of five types, drumsticks, salads of two types, fried rice and a special Goan fish curry decorated the table as the main course. The Order members were surprised at this turn out from Kreacher. But one does not look a gift Pegasus in the mouth, so without complaints, they dug in.

As Hermione and Ron had predicted, all the members of a traditional Pureblood House had observed Harry the moment he entered. It was a good thing that dinner tonight had been prepared by the house elf, as it would indicate that the elf respected and cared for his Master. The purebloods had also noticed his robes and mannerisms. Ron and Hermione had also tried to appear as the dignified best friends of the dignified Heir, but were not quite successful as their joy at seeing Harry overshadowed everything else.

Halfway through the meal, when everyone was satisfied that Harry Potter wouldn't shame the Houses he was the Heir to, by his ignorance of their traditions and customs, they removed their watchful eyes off him. After that the trio enthusiastically began talking about anything and everything.

"Mate," exclaimed Ron, "this is one of the best suppers I've eaten here!"

Hermione frowned a bit at the amount of work Kreacher had to do for this, but decided it was better he worked and be happy rather than not and stay sulky. So she refrained from starting to rant about elf rights; besides she didn't want to ruin the one evening they had with Harry.

Harry grinned at Ron's delight. "I'll tell Kreacher you loved his cooking."

At that, his best friends leaned towards him, "By the way, Harry," said Hermione curiously, "how did you manage to make him accept you?"

"Every elf is different, Hermione," said Harry seriously. "Not every elf needed a little kindness like Dobby. Dobby was abused, Kreacher was lonely. He did not need kindness, he needed company. The Order members however refused his help in anything, so he grew bitter about having a Master that did not want him and a house full of people who he could not care for as they did not care for him."

The two teens looked thoughtful after Harry's explanation and then promised that after Harry went to live with Snape, they would now start involving Kreacher along with Dobby to contact Harry.

The dessert too was a mouth-watering one: two types of custard, caramel pudding, a chocolate mousse and the birthday cake. Harry abstained from eating any dessert and told his friends to take only a small helping,

"Aunt Petunia packed us her home-baked cake," he told them excitedly. "I don't want to feel too full to not have any. It is the first time I would get to taste."

At hearing his excitement to taste a cake his own aunt had made for him, that too for the first time, they smiled sadly. How much he had missed out on family over the years. The fact, that he wanted to share his first gift from his relatives with them, spoke volumes about his generosity. To think that they could neglect him for years and he forgave them in a month. But though he might have forgiven his aunt and cousin, they would remember it for a long time.

…

They were sitting in Ron's room, eating cake and catching up, when Harry remembered his gifts. He pulled out the wrapped packages from his aunt and put them on the bed. Ron and Hermione leaned forward, curious to see what they had given him.

"Did you like our gifts, Harry?" Hermione asked.

She had sent hers, Ron's, Sirius and Remus's along in the morning. Harry smiled as he remembered Dobby popping up at the crack of dawn to wish him a happy birthday.

"Yes, thanks, they were brilliant." he replied. And they were – Ron had given him a book, surprisingly, titled _'An In-Depth Study of the Light and Dark Magicks'_. He had been astonished at the title, since he knew how Ron felt about Dark magic, but perhaps Ron had changed his views now.

Harry, under the tutelage of the faux Mad-eye Moody in his fourth year, had learnt many useful spell of both light and dark persuasion. And even after the imposter's identity was revealed, he was still grateful to him for teaching him those spells – they had helped greatly in the Tournament and against Voldemort's Death Eaters. When his friends came to know, Hermione had accepted his use of such dark magic realising that a tool could only be as evil as its wielder, but Ron had been staunchly against it.

With the war breaking out now (even though the masses were unaware of it) Ron though, ever the strategist decided that if the grown-ups wouldn't let them be privy about the war, it didn't mean that they would sit idle. The book was an old one, that usually only Pureblood families had. So Ron had asked Bill to scrounge about for a copy to send it to him.

It seemed that Ron finally realised that even thought Voldemort was "the bad guy", he was right about one thing – ' _There is no good and evil, only power and those too weak to seek it.'_

Hermione too, in a total tangent like Ron, had given him a crystal ball. Knowing how much she despised Divination, he was surprised at the gift. But her letter that came along with the gift explained that she had bought it at an artefact store, it was meant be some kind of vessel for storing magic. Of course, Harry had not dared to experiment with it without Hermione present.

Sirius had sent him a few more books on how to be a perfect Pureblood Heir and a magical journal, spelled to have a nearly endless amount of pages. It was tradition that every Potter would start keeping a Journal after turning 15. Any important events, political manoeuvres, crucial life changing events or, if capable, spells invented by him would go into the journal. Each Potter before him had a journal which they filled with their life experiences. It was in this way, the Noble and Immortal House of Potter had amassed a variety of spells, charms, rituals, potions, traditions and even secrets of family magic that were known to none but a Potter.

Finally, Remus had sent him a few books of charms, or more specifically his mother's books – which she had read in order to get her Mastery, but couldn't because of the war – in which his mother's own spells and modifications were scribbled on in the margins. This proved just how brilliant his mother was. Remus had also sent him a pack of Chocolate Frogs.

Harry laid out two simply wrapped packages on Ron's bed. He first un-wrapped the larger one, which turned out to be a photo album. Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him as he flipped pages, childhood pictures of his aunt and mother smiling up at him. His eyes watered slightly seeing them so care-free and happy.

He discreetly wiped his eyes, "Muggle photos," he explained to Ron, who was looking at the unmoving pictures in astonishment.

Hermione pointed at an elderly couple, the man having dark brown hair and green eyes, very much like his own, and the woman with blonde hair and grey eyes, "Look! They must have been your grandparents, Harry."

They looked at the photographs for a while and then Ron pushed the smaller gift at him.

"Open it," he urged.

Harry complied and out fell…a ring box.

"What?!" exclaimed the three of them in surprise.

Not because Harry's aunt had gifted him a ring – but because all three of them could clearly sense the magic that surrounded it. On the outer cover of the leather box was a seal – a black shield with silver border with the symbol of a Griffin, raised on its hind legs and wings unfurled, the single eye, red in colour.

Aunt Petunia had sent him the ring of House Gryffindor! And the main question was – how did she come to have it? Ron picked up a letter that had come along with it and handed it to Harry.

Harry silently read it and after a few minutes, passed it on to Ron and Hermione as he sat quietly, still shocked at the unexpected things revealed by his aunt.

Ron and Hermione looked at the letter they were handed and silently began reading it.

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm writing this letter as you sleep – perhaps the first peaceful sleep you've had in days. Since I can't seem to pluck up the courage and tell you myself, I am writing it down._

_It has been years since your mother and I last talked, but she shared an important part of our family history with me that I feel you should know about. I never had the courage to tell you before – but the Evans Family are descendants of…what do you call them? Squibs?_ [SR3]

_Yes that – I don't much know about the importance or social standing this family had while they still produced witches and wizards, but she assured me it was great. I suppose the fact that after being descended from squibs, it was only your mother in whom magic manifested, made me jealous._

_She found out about our lineage on her fifteenth birthday and entrusted me to tell you about it if anything…happened to her. The ring is rightfully yours Harry. And I shall give to you on your fifteenth birthday as per tradition._

_I shall make an effort to get to know your world Harry, so that I still have a chance of calling you family. But I shall understand if you don't…_

_The ring box and a few photographs are the only things I have left of her. She gave it to me when we last met...I think she said it belongs to a very influential House called Gryffindor. And she also told me that you must visit Gringotts - the bank? - to know about your finances, as soon as you receive your Potter Heir ring._

_I will assume you know what it all means Harry, since I have no clue at all._

_A very Happy Birthday to you Harry._

_Love,_

_Aunt Petunia._

Ron, Harry and Hermione looked at each other.

"We really need to know more about Pureblood Traditions and Customs," mused Hermione. "And politics," she added thoughtfully.

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "Harry is already learning from Sirius and my parents have taught me the basics but we need to know more. We are going to enter into war soon, and not all of it will be on the battlefield."

"You're right, Ron," said Harry. "Sirius will be giving me the Heir ring of the Potter and the Black Houses soon. Should I tell him about the Gryffindor ring?"

Hermione shook her head. "I think we should wait. You should have seen the faces of everyone when Sirius revealed you as his Heir. I don't want to imagine the type of reaction it will bring about – the fact that you are the Heir to the legendary Gryffindor House. "Besides," said Ron, "I think it will be more of a surprise that your mum was a Gryffindor instead of your father. And you must find a way to go to Gringotts, Harry. Since you are the last of your line, you will have to handle everything."

"You'll be with me, won't you?" asked Harry, a little overwhelmed.

"Of course!" Both Ron and Hermione answered immediately. "All the way, Harry," Hermione assured him.

Harry nodded. Then he asked his best friends, "Well what should I do about the ring then?"

At that Hermione pulled out a simple chain from her neck and gave it to him. "You can put the ring in the chain and wear it."

"What?" Harry spluttered. "But that's your chain!"

"I know, Harry," said Hermione patiently, "you can always return it to me when you decide to wear the ring on your finger."

Harry agreed and slid the ring onto the chain and put it around his neck. At once the ring shimmered and disappeared.

Ron and Hermione leaned forward to look at it, surprised.

Ron exclaimed, "Wow! I had heard of such things before – family rings becoming invisible if their owner wishes it to be."

Harry sighed in relief, "So it will reappear if I wish it to?" At Ron's nod, he tried experimentally and it once again shimmered into view. Satisfied Harry turned it invisible again.

"So…" said Hermione, "anything interesting happen this summer?"

He was about to reply in the negative when he remembered Louella's letter. He had never told his friends about her. She was a sore topic for him, and would have preferred if she stayed as a part of the past, but now that she had tried to re-establish contact, he wanted to tell his friends about her.

Since they already knew most things about his childhood, he expressed how wonderful it felt to have a friend of his own and told them of the happy times they had had.

* * *

Ella lay down on her bed, not in the least anticipating the day tomorrow would bring. Her uncle had told her numerous times about Harry Potter and had never painted him in a good light.

_'Arrogant, foolish, cocky brat!'_

And to think Harry bloody Potter would be coming to stay here of all places! Actually, since she was the Mistress of the House, she could demand that he stay elsewhere, but she knew that even if he was an arrogant fool, he was the only hope against the Dark Lord.

And yes, she knew that the Dark Lord was back – after all, her father had been a Death Eater. Something he had not been proud of later on and had been killed earlier this month for not responding to the Dark Lord's summons.

So she had begrudgingly allowed Harry Potter to stay at her house. And to think that, that was not enough, he was also bringing his pet dog along. How Uncle Severus ever agreed to this, she would never know.

And then, her mind to turned to Harry. Not Harry Potter! Oh no! But to her childhood friend – the shy boy who stayed four blocks down. Since she was home-schooled, as Pureblood children often were, she never saw Harry anywhere except the park. And only when he had finished his chores would he be found there.

Something about the boy in oversized clothes, shaggy hair and bright green eyes had drawn her in. And even if they saw each other only a couple of times in a week, soon they became the very best of friends.

They never exchanged gifts on Christmas – he, because he had nothing to give her and she, because her grandmother did not approve of her being friends with a Muggle.

And there was no chance of her giving him anything on his birthday, as he himself never knew the date. Her young mind never understood it, but now she could clearly see that the way his relatives treated him was incorrect.

She hoped he was alright now, that his relatives had started caring for him. At least he was still with his relatives, the fact that the letter reached him at his old house was proof enough. If only she knew his surname, or even his relatives' surname. Then she might be able to go down to town and check for his number at the nearest post office or in the telephone directory. But alas, she knew neither.

She closed her eyes as she heard Skippy pop in to close the curtains that were fluttering with the breeze. She sighed and waited for sleep to claim her. Tomorrow would be a tiring day, and even though she had already begun to despise Potter after listening to her Uncle, a small, childish part of her, couldn't wait to meet the Boy-Who-Lived, about whom she had heard many stories in her childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do leave a comment! Let me know your thoughts on this chapter!


	6. A Reunion Of Sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets Louella...

Louella ate breakfast alone at Royal House. Her Uncle Severus' letter lay on the dining table, beside her plate. He had been out of the house for the last four days, and two days ago, instead of coming to tell her personally, he had sent her a letter informing her that Harry Potter and his dog – Snuffles – were coming to stay at her house.

According to her uncle, they would be coming today, after breakfast. It was half-past eight now. In an hour and half, Harry Potter would be here! To have the Boy-Who-Lived stay at her house was not something everyone could boast about. She wondered if they would become friends during his short stay here. Keeping in mind what her uncle had told her about him, she did not have any high expectations…but a girl could hope, right?

* * *

Harry, Ron and Hermione had stayed up late at night, listening to the stories of Harry's childhood. So it was three bleary eyed teenagers that appeared at the breakfast table in the morning.

Breakfast, once again, was made by Kreacher. Molly had not taken the elf's sudden interest in cooking for them well. However, Kreacher was nothing if not persistent. It was the only meal today that his Master Harry would be having here, so it was just not possible that he would not make breakfast.

The breakfast table was slightly less crowded than it had been last night. A few members had spent the night on the living room couch and most of them had left early to go to work.

…

Severus Snape had reluctantly spent the night at Black's house. It would have been too time consuming to go home and then return once again to pick up Black and Potter. Though, one had to agree, since Potter had returned last night, this was the second meal made by the old elf and it was as delicious as last night's dinner.

Just as he put the newspaper down, Potter and his two lackeys…er…friends, entered the room. An automatic sneer appeared on lips as he imagined living with the brat till the school reopened. If that was not bad enough, Black had insisted on tagging along.

At least, with his niece around, he couldn't have the urge to curse Potter every time he saw him. No, it wouldn't serve as a good example to Louella. He hoped she had the sense to stay away from Potter. He was a good for nothing, arrogant –

"Good morning, Mrs Weasley," Harry interrupted Severus's internal diatribe.

Hermione echoed the greeting as Ron simply grunted, clearly too sleepy to say anything coherent.

As Harry piled some pieces of toast on his plate, he looked around to see that Sirius was not present.

"Where's Sirius?" he asked no one in particular.

Molly Weasley took the initiative to answer him, "Don't you worry about it Harry, Sirius will be coming down soon. He's packing his trunk, upstairs. That man, honestly," she shook her head. "He knew days ago that he would be leaving today, and yet hasn't finished his packing." Then she suddenly turned to Harry with narrowed eyes, "You've already packed, haven't you?"

Swallowing hastily, Harry replied in the affirmative as Ron sniggered behind his cup of tea. Trust Harry to be wary of Molly Weasley's scolding.

After breakfast the three of them returned to Harry's room to spend as much as time they had before he left.

"We'll keep writing to you, mate," Ron assured him.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, we'll send Dobby, and at times Kreacher, with our letters. And anything we hear about You-Know-Who, we'll let you know immediately."

Harry grinned at them in gratitude. He wondered how it would have been if he had been cut off from talking to his friends for a whole month, especially after Cedric's death.

They had talked about it in their letters – he had told them what happened there, it brought back painful memories, but he had felt a lot lighter after they comforted him and assured him that he was in no way guilty.

…

At a quarter to ten, Sirius, Harry and Severus stood in the lounge, ready to leave. Bidding Hermione, Ron and Remus farewell, he grabbed on to the portkey that Snape held out.

A small 'pop' and they were gone.

The three wizards appeared in a small alley way that was almost deserted. As soon as they landed, Hedwig took off into the air. She gave Harry a reassuring hoot, conveying a message that only he could understand, telling him that she would fly to reach their destination.

Sirius transformed into his animagus form and Snape led them out of the alley. Harry came to walk beside them as Sirius trotted behind them.

"Where are we, Professor?" asked Harry curiously.

Snape scowled, but knowing that it was a valid question, he replied curtly, "Edinburgh,"

Harry nodded absently as he looked around; it was a town in which they had arrived. At nearly ten in the morning, the streets were filled with commuters; they all looked to be muggle at first glance, but after peering at closely at a few people he realised that quite a few of them were wizards. The wizards wore muggle clothes no doubt, but the cloths were certainly of magical fabric. The typical hair style also gave a lot of them away.

So, they were in a half muggle – half magic town, were they? An old man waved at them as they passed him, "Guests, Severus?"

Severus nodded curtly and walked passed him without giving a verbal answer. They soon reached a quiet lane. Houses lined both sides of the road, each having its own front and back garden. They could make out the tree tops in the woods that surrounded the area. But out of all of this, what made Harry stop and do a double-take was the huge signboard that said 'Welcome to the Royal House Colony'.

Snape, who had walked on ahead with Padfoot bounding in front of him, turned back to address Harry, "Come on, boy! We don't have all day."

"Uh-huh," came back his distracted answer, then refocusing, he ran to catch up with them, "Where do you stay, Professor?"

"House No. 8," Snape replied.

"Oh," Harry said. "Does anyone else live there?"

Snape looked at him suspiciously, but dismissing it, he replied, "My niece and I stay here. Speaking of which, stay away from her, if you know what's good for you. I do not want to hear that you are troubling her. Keep that in mind Potter." Padfoot growled at the threat, as if trying to say, "The same goes for you Snape."

_'Well,'_ thought Harry, _'this confirms it._ '

Louella Prince, Severus Snape's niece and Harry's childhood friend were one and the same.

* * *

Louella waited in the lounge for her uncle and guests to arrive. The Potters were of a Noble and Immortal House – the title signifying that their bloodline first came into existence a very long time ago to be traced back. It was a powerful House and had produced many strong witches and wizards. She had heard many things about Potter – most of them rumours, so they couldn't totally be trusted – but she had to admit that she felt excited to meet him. Her uncle's opinion of him did make her wonder though if he truly was conceited and arrogant.

Louella was shaken out of her thoughts when the doorbell rang. Skippy, her house elf popped in to open the door. Moments later her uncle walked into the lounge, a black haired, bespectacled boy walking beside him and a shaggy black dog trailing behind them, its shackles raised as if ready to attack at the slightest notice.

"Louella," Severus spoke, smiling at her, "allow me to introduce you to our guest, he will be residing with us till the twenty-ninth of this month."

Snape made the necessary introductions and told her to stay away from the dog as it had fleas. Padfoot growled at that while Snape simply smirked. It was not polite to be rude to their guest's pet, but Snape certainly didn't care about that. Louella did not know what enmity her uncle had with a dog and disregarding the beast (it was beast! Honestly! Who ever made dogs that huge?), she extended her hand to Potter.

Harry accepted her hand brushed his lips lightly over her knuckles as per Pureblood tradition. He looked at her; she looked very different from how she did nearly five years ago. He nearly couldn't recognise her. But the question was, did she recognise him? He looked into her eyes for a brief moment, searching for any sign any of recognition, but found none. Ella had often said that his bright green eyes were a distinguishing feature of his, that anyone could recognise it from afar. But it did not seem the case here, as she herself had failed to recognise them.

He gave her a small smile and did not remind her of his identity. She replied with a small but genuine smile and Harry thought it to be for the best. Their old friendship – the one between Harry and Ella – would probably never be renewed, but maybe they could begin a new one – between Harry Potter and Louella Prince.

* * *

Sirius, in his dog form, sniffed around the house, as Snape led Harry to his room. As he was a dog, the girl – what's her name? Ah! Louella! – paid no attention to his wanderings. Categorizing each smell, he realized that there was no one in the house apart from Snape and the girl. It seemed as if even Snape did not want his other friends near his niece.

One other scent caught his nose and he followed it to the kitchen in the basement. The house elf, Skippy's, eyes widened at seeing such a large dog which looked quite similar to the Grim. Padfoot bounded up to the elf and disregarding its frightened squeak, sniffed him. Satisfied, he then padded up the stairs and repeated the process for the first and then second floor. It was a huge house, almost like a mansion.

The Princes' had always been a well-to-do family; dark – yes, but malevolent – no. Sirius, after finishing his self-guided tour, went back to Harry. Harry had enlarged their shrunk trunks and had set about arranging their clothes in the cupboard. Since their robes were now nearly the same size, no one would realise that there were two wizards living here, if they were to open the wardrobe. Padfoot jumped onto the bed and lay down, burrowing into the warm bed cover.

Harry laughed, "Come on, Sirius! Help me unpack!"

Sirius changed back and grinned at his godson as he simply flicked his wand and all the clothes neatly arranged themselves in the closet.

Then remembering his tour around the house he said, "Snape, as much as it pains me to say, has a good house. And I checked; there is no prevalent dark or black magic in the house."

Harry frowned, "How do you know that?"

"Magic, especially dark magic, always leaves behind traces. And animagi with powerful sense of smell can detect it very well."

Hedwig, who had perched herself on the window sill, hooted in agreement and Harry left it at that.

The rest of the morning went peacefully. Harry and Sirius spent the time in their room – Harry, completing his summer homework on Hermione's orders, and Sirius, writing a bunch of letters to people he wouldn't mention names of. Hedwig was very disgruntled to be woken up from her morning nap to deliver almost a dozen letters.

Louella also spent the morning writing – to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was applying for a transfer from Beauxbatons to Hogwarts. While not common, it was not rare either. Young witches and wizards, whose parents moved around a lot due to their jobs, were often transferred to different schools.

Hogwarts had a special application form one had to fill. It had three sections; the first was a standard one regarding her magical knowledge and previous grades, the second required information about herself and her family as well as her magical power and the final one was a set of questions set by the current Headmaster of Hogwarts. It showed what was most important for the school – first your magic and knowledge, second your family and lastly the headmaster's opinion of you. It was why Hogwarts was considered as one of the best schools in Europe and the best school on the British Isles.

Hogwarts cared little of what background you came from, only that you had magic. Of course, there was a standard for it. Witches and wizards of lower than average magical power did not get an acceptance letter and would not get a transfer. It was why parents were especially proud of their children receiving an invitation to Hogwarts itself!

Severus, however, left the house soon after he had dropped off Potter and Black. The Dark Lord would need a report on the goings-on of the Order and he also needed to think of how tell him about Potter now that Black had demanded a Vow of Secrecy that he had reluctantly acquiesced to. Severus bit back a grumble and apparated.

* * *

Lord Voldemort prided himself in knowing many obscure branches of magic and being very proficient in them too. However, even he had to admit that he knew nothing about wand lore. And ignorance in this issue, he could not afford. Why, you might ask. And the answer would be, because of that incident that occurred in the graveyard of Little Hangleton last June.

He had pondered over it many times, trying to think of a reason why his and Potter's wands had connected. But he had not been able to reach a conclusion. At times, he wished he was not operating behind the scenes. At least then, he would be able to capture Ollivander and make him answer the question. But since the Ministry was very happily ignoring his return – and that was very helpful to his plans – he had to maintain a low profile and couldn't attack directly.

His mind drifted towards the prophecy. He had lost the one follower he had in the Department of Mysteries to Azkaban. That was the one department that held the answer to his questions and it was not accessible to him. Which was why he planned to break into Azkaban to free his followers. It couldn't be done in a rush though; it required planning and patience, lots of it. And drifting around as a spirit for thirteen years taught you a lot about patience.

He had chosen his followers today, those who would be accompanying him to Azkaban when the time came. They would need training for it. Azkaban was heavily protected with wards, Dementors as well as Aurors and Hitwizards. They would have to do their work in a fixed time frame and he planned to give them practice for it. His missions were not successful due to luck, Lord Voldemort planned everything well, and always had a backup if things went wrong.

A crack of apparition sounded through the house and a few minutes later, Severus Snape entered the room. Voldemort could easily feel the annoyance that poured off him, but Severus schooled his features as he swept into a low bow in respect.

"My lord," Severus began, "I do not bring good news."

Had anyone else began their report in such a manner, he would have been displeased. After all, Voldemort did not like hearing bad news. However, it was Severus, one of his most trusted servants – if he trusted them at all – and he always brought important news, whether it was good or bad.

"Dumbledore's envoys reached the colony of Giants before ours could. It seems as if they have already presented their first gift."

"No matter," Voldemort dismissed it easily and on Severus's surprised expression that was quickly replaced by a respectful nod, he decided to humour him and answer, "I know Dumbledore, he would have sent Hagrid for this mission. And that bumbling fool is sure to mess it up. If not, we can be sure of the fact that our gifts far outclass theirs."

The report continued, plans and moves that Dumbledore might make was relayed to the Dark Lord. Finally, he made his usual comment on Potter, asking him for any news about Harry, just before dismissing Severus.

"My lord, this is the bad news I bring. I have been spelled to secrecy by the mutt. Even if I know Potters' location, I cannot speak of it."

_'Hmm, now this poses a problem,'_ thought Lord Voldemort. But his first priority was to hear the prophecy in its entirety, not rush into things as he had done fourteen years ago on Halloween.

After dismissing Severus, he called Lucius to him. "We shall attack Azkaban on Halloween. On the night of Samhain, the barrier between life and death is the thinnest. The Dementors will be more susceptible to be brought under my control then."

Lucius was confused. "But my lord, I thought that you had decided it be on the night of Yule?"

"And now I have decided it to be on the night of Samhain. It is not your place to question me, Lucius!"

Lucius bowed. "Very well, my lord."

* * *

That evening when Louella decided to take a stroll in the gardens behind her house, she did not expect to see Harry Potter lounging about on the grass, his monstrous flea-bitten dog with him. Well, she may not have liked the dog, but she did wish to know Potter better. So she went up to him and plopped down on the grass next to him.

"Enjoying the evening breeze?"

Harry turned to look at her with a small smile. "Yes, but more like I was looking at the plants here. You do have a wide variety of magical ones."

Louella smiled. "Yes, Mother loved plants, so she planted almost every plant that could be grown here. She even tried to plant others but they were not suited for this climate."

"She sounds a lot like Neville!" Harry laughed.

They talked of inconsequential things, Padfoot inserting a few barks now and then. Harry almost felt that he had his old friend back. Almost. Because, that was certainly not true; no longer could he share all his problems with her as he could with Hermione and Ron.

On the other hand, Louella was having a pleasant conversation with Potter. She couldn't understand why her uncle would call him arrogant. The sun began its descent, painting the sky with a myriad of colours. They watched as it slowly disappeared into the horizon, and Louella's mind suddenly remembered a similar incident with Harry, when they were kids and stayed back in the park to watch the sun set.

Soon, the sun had set completely, and they went in for dinner. Skippy had already set the table and there was a plate of meat for Padfoot. Padfoot carefully sniffed it, wondering whether it would agree with his human stomach. But then he gave the dog equivalent of a shrug and tore into his meal.

"Eww!" Louella made an odd noise. "Does he have to be so messy while eating?"

Harry looked down to see his godfather eating as if he had not been fed since days. "Eh, he never really learned any manners. Kind of a wild dog." Harry grinned at her.

Padfoot growled playfully at Harry's words, but it did nothing to reassure Louella. "He looks a lot like the Grim, you know, the omen of death?"

"Yeah, but he's just a simple dog. Nothing remotely dangerous about him."

Dinner was a pleasant affair for Harry, especially since Snape wasn't here. He was sure Snape wouldn't want him mingling with Louella so much. If it were up to him he wouldn't even be in the same house as her. According to him, Potters corrupted everything they came in contact with.

* * *

After dinner, all of them retired to bed. Sirius changed back as soon as they closed the door. He pulled out his wand and spelled it silent, adding a locking spell for good measure. He didn't want someone to peep into the room and see the only Azkaban escapee lounging about with Harry Potter. Who knows, if Louella suddenly decided to take a peek to see how their guests were doing? Didn't want her to be able to hearing anything they say. And on the subject of Louella –

"How do you know her?"

Harry was startled and for a moment gave a wonderful impression of a fish out of water. "What? Why do you think that, Sirius?"

Sirius snorted. "You never talk so freely to people as you did with her,"

"It's good manners to make polite conversation with people."

"No need to remind me of Pureblood courtesy Harry, as I am technically the one who taught you that in the first place."

Harry stayed quiet for a moment before he said, "She used to stay in Surrey. I didn't know her real name back then. She was Ella Lenoir to me and I was simply Harry to her. She did not care that I was an orphan and most decidedly poor, even though her family was rich and she could have other friends of a higher station. We didn't know much about each other's families. She lived with her strict grandmother, Mrs Lenoir and her father was in coma. That was all I knew and that was all I needed to know."

Sirius understood how Harry was feeling; it was how he had felt when he became friends with James. To know that someone could look behind the hated Black name and see Sirius.

"She was your first friend, wasn't she?"

"Yes."

They stayed quiet for some time before Sirius asked, "What happened?"

"Her father recovered. He moved here for some time, though I never saw him, and then he offered her a chance to back to France. Her mother and father attended Beauxbatons; she would get the chance to go there. She agreed. Next thing I know, the Lenoirs had left the town for good."

"Hmm," Sirius mused. "The Lenoirs? I have heard of them. They are an old prominent Pureblood House in France. Perhaps it was her mother's maiden name."

They spent some time talking about Harry's childhood with her before Sirius started feeling sleepy.

"You go to bed Sirius," Harry waved. "I'll just write a letter to Ron and Hermione before dozing off, okay?"

"Hmm," Sirius nodded sleepily before he suddenly opened his eyes. "Hey! Tell me one thing, what did you do to Kreacher to make him like you? Like, actually like you!"

Harry laughed at that.

Smirking playfully, he replied, "That's for me to know and you to find out!"

* * *

That night, Harry composed his letter to Ron, something along the lines of –

_'Ron,_

_You wouldn't believe who Snape's niece is! Yeah, apparently he does have one. It's her! Ella! Remember I told you about her? She's here! But she didn't recognise me, and when we talked, I didn't feel any close to her as to how it used to be with Ella._

_By the way, Snape doesn't live in any sort of damp, dirty, blood covered dungeon that reeks with dark magic! He actually has a pretty cool house, can you believe it? With a flower garden and all, really the only thing that is missing now is the white fence picket and a nice pet dog. Of course, Padfoot's here, so now we only need a fence…'_

At the same time, Louella wrote another letter to Harry, not knowing that he resided just down the hall. After much thinking she decided not to tell him about magic in a letter. It was unsafe and he might not take it seriously. So she decided to pick a day to meet him. She was sure Uncle Severus would agree.

She spoke of how her days passed and what she did in her spare time. And then, she did not know what made her write such a thing, but she did –

_'By the way, you won't believe who's come to stay with us! Harry Potter! Well, you might not know him, but he's pretty famous in certain social circles. He's an okay kind of bloke; don't know why Uncle doesn't like him much._

_So anyway, you're fine with the fifteenth of this month, in London? I will really explain everything to you, Harry. If you still don't want anything to do with me then, I'll accept it. But please come, okay?_

_Anyway, you know I told you about the school in Britain that I will join this year? So, I had to fill an application form and you wouldn't believe some of the questions the Headmaster had printed! What is your favourite colour – pink, yellow, white or purple? And one was like, how do you prefer your bath – with bath salts or with bubbles? There was even one that asked, how many times do you brush your hair in a day – one, two, three or four? Really, that man seems like a senile old fool to me…'_

* * *

Harry had always been an early riser. So when he went down to the dining room at 7:00 am, he wasn't surprised to see that the only one there apart from him was the house elf, Skippy. Last night he had sent Hedwig off to Grimmauld with his letter, deciding that she needed to stretch her wings a bit and he trusted her to fly out of the sight of any Death Eaters. So, it was surprising to hear the tapping of the window that usually an owl made.

Harry looked up from the Daily Prophet, that Skippy brought him, to see a grey owl with a letter tied to its feet. He got up and opened the window to let the bird in. The owl flew in and perched on the back of a chair, thrusting one talon of his towards Harry.

Harry, confused as to whose owl it was, took the letter and immediately recognised it. Louella had once again attempted to disguise it as muggle post and he could make out the faint trace of a glamour that concealed the parchment. He opened it and read it once quickly. So, she wanted to meet him, did she? Perhaps she really was serious about this. Now he would have to tell her, because if he agreed to meet her in London, she would come to know anyway.

It was fifteen minutes later when he was rereading the letter and silently laughing at Dumbledore's odd questions, that Skippy popped in to announce, "Breakfast will be served soon,". Harry nodded, also understanding the silent message that said that Louella will be down soon enough. After all, one doesn't begin a meal without the host present.

…

Louella had dressed in a casual robe today. She planned to go down to the town's post office today and look through the names of all the people living in Surrey and see if she recognised any of them. She had become almost obsessed with finding out Harry's last name. She entered the dining room, intending to tell Potter that she would be going out after breakfast, but what she saw made her stop in surprise.

Harry sat at the table, Whiskers, her owl, perched on the back of his chair and he held a letter in his hand. She wouldn't even have paid attention to it had she not noticed the envelope on the table. Recognising it as the letter she had written to Harry, her Harry, last night, her gazed moved up to meet Potter's.

"How dare you read - ?" she began in anger and then realising what it meant, "You! I – you – how…? You are Harry!"

"Why thank you for reminding me of my own name, Louella," replied Harry sarcastically. Louella froze, not knowing what to say, but Harry continued, "And I'll ask you not to call Dumbledore a senile old man, I am rather fond of him, you see. Not that I don't agree that he is old and senile."


	7. The Dementors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dementor attack...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this will be my last chapter for now, as I have my upcoming exams to worry about. I'llbe picking up the story once my exams are over and done with, which might be a few months as the entrance exams are rather spread out...

Louella simply opened and closed her mouth, no sound escaping her. She was mortified. She had basically gushed about Harry Potter in that letter, only to realise that the Harry she had been writing to had been the very same as Harry Potter himself! Oh, what would her grandmother say when she realised that she had once called Harry Potter a muggle? Well, technically she would and could say nothing, since she had passed away two years ago.

"You knew!" she suddenly said. "When you came here, you knew who I was!" She snorted self-depreciatingly. "Of course you knew, I had already given you my name and address."

"Yes, I knew," Harry admitted.

"And you didn't tell me!" she asked, outraged that he would keep something like this from her.

"You didn't recognise me though, did you?" Harry asked her. Seeing that she had no answer to that, he smiled wryly, "Come sit, Louella. Let's not miss breakfast; we can talk as we eat."

Louella numbly walked over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. She served herself and watched as he put a few pieces of toast on his plate. However, she didn't know what to say to him, and he didn't make any attempt to talk either.

They were half way through breakfast when Padfoot bounded down the stairs. He did not understand the reason for the tense atmosphere and simply gulped down his food, trusting Harry to handle it on his own. Besides, he was going to Grimmauld Place today – there was another meeting scheduled – and would probably not return till late evening.

…

Harry and Louella were left alone in the house after Padfoot had sneaked out under the pretence of going out for a walk. Louella had not thought anything of it since he was a dog. However, it left both of them in an awkward situation. Neither knew what to say to the other, and even though the silence was growing uncomfortable, they were reluctant to break it.

"How was your summer?" Louella suddenly asked. "I mean – you live with your relatives, right? – I remember you didn't get along well with each other…" She trailed off, realising how insensitive that was.

Previously, when they were still good friends, she had never really pried too much into his home life. They had been kids and things such as neglectful guardians never captured their attention while there were better things to do, like playing and having fun.

But it had been a start, the beginning of a conversation and Harry, glad that she did not inquire about anything regarding his fame or Voldemort, readily answered. Louella was slightly hesitant at first, not knowing how to act around him now that she realised he was her old friend, but seeing that Harry was seemingly content to forget about the past, she too did not broach the subject.

"Tell me about Hogwarts," she requested.

Harry grinned at that; Hogwarts had been his first real home and just thinking of it and all the memories he'd made there made him smile with happiness.

"Hogwarts," Harry began, "is a castle. Almost like a fortress. It is extremely huge and takes quite some time to know your way around the trick steps and moving staircases…"

* * *

By the time they'd finished lunch, Louella and Harry had run out of topics to talk about. Harry had told her the basic things about Hogwarts and spoken a little about the classes that were offered. She, in return, had told him of Beauxbatons and the friends she'd made there. She spoke of the snow covered mountain peaks and beautifully sculpted ice statues that Harry remembered Fleur Delacour boasting about last year.

"What were your plans for today?" Harry asked her when they grew tired of doing nothing out of boredom.

"Oh, I was planning to go to town today," she replied. "Do you want to come with me? We could visit the park, and I need to buy a stack of parchment too."

Well, that had not been the main reason she had wanted to go to the town before, but she was hardly going to tell Harry about her initial plans to track him down by leafing through the yellow pages (a muggle telephone directory) in search of his name.

Harry thought about it. Voldemort had been pretty quiet lately according to both the Order and the _Prophet_. Snape was under an Oath – he couldn't reveal his location to anyone outside the Order. That meant Voldemort had no chance of finding him in Edinburgh. Unless he had really bad luck.

Considering it safe to go, he replied with a smile, "Sure."

Then realising what she had said, he asked her, "Parchment? Where would you get that in a muggle town?"

Louella gave a small laugh. "Oh no! This town is not entirely muggle. There are a few witches and wizards here and a couple of wizarding stores. It's not much, but certainly magical enough to be registered at the Ministry as a part wizarding-part muggle town."

Harry had never really been to such a place before, where both muggle and magical beings coalesced and lived together. He wondered how they had concealed the magical aspects of their life from their non-magic counterparts.

"Is there a clothes shop here?" Harry asked her remembering that he needed a new cloak. His old one had worn thin and had quite a few torn edges.

"Yes. We can leave in an hour or so. Do our shopping, walk for a while and return in time for dinner."

This was agreeable to both of them and after finishing off any pending work, they were ready to leave. Harry and Louella had changed into muggle attire to help them blend in; a jeans and shirt for Harry while Louella wore a dress, both with sleeves long enough to conceal their wands.

…

It had been quite surprising for Harry to enter into a perfectly muggle clothing store only to be led through a door set in the far back of the room behind a couple of huge coat racks. Once through the door, the feel of magic, nearly tangible in the air, overwhelmed him.

Robes, dress robes, shirts, trousers, skirts, woollen clothes, cloaks – in nearly every material and colour were displayed on the racks. At one end, a sewing machine tailored an old pair of trousers with a scissor hovering above it, and a pair of knitting needles worked by itself in the process of knitting what looked like a muffler.

An elderly wizard had propped himself up on an armchair near the sewing machine; probably to look over the tailoring of his trousers; but was instead snoozing peacefully. A woman, presumably the owner, hurried over to them when she took notice of their arrival.

"Hello, dears," she smiled. "I am a bit busy today. Need to complete a long order. Will you be fine by yourselves?" Without waiting for their answer, she continued, "Take your purchases to the counter and Marilla will ring it up for you. Don't worry, she's a squib."

Louella nodded and she then turned to the sleeping wizard with an alarmed cry. As they started toward the cloaks' rack, they heard her shouting,

"Mr Saunders! Mr Saunders, wake up! I told you to tell the machine to stop once it tailored your trousers to the right length. Now look! It's four inches too short –"

Harry ran his hand over a few cloaks, dismissing them because they were not of the right material. He needed something warmer that could help shield him from the cold climate at Hogwarts.

Louella emerged from behind yet another rack, "How about this one?"

It was a dark green colour.

"Hogwarts allows only black and grey as a part of their uniform," he reminded her.

She frowned slightly; Beauxbatons had a much better colour for their uniform – blue. It allowed them to wear matching shades of blue cloaks or robes with them. Well, now that it was possible she might attend Hogwarts (her acceptance letter had not yet come), she would have to get used to the dull grey and black colours.

When Harry had found a cloak to his liking at last, he tried it on to see how it felt. Then he felt it again – a small tingle of magic. He frowned: where was this magic coming from? It certainly wasn't from the shop. Because, really, _what_ could have so much magic here that one could taste it in the very air?

"You can feel it?" Louella was surprised when he told her about it. "It's coming from the second floor."

"Second floor?"

"Yes, there's a witch up there. Claims to be a Seer. The muggles have a lot of faith in her. All the readings she has done for them seem to be true."

"And the magical folk?"

Louella shrugged. Her father had never put much stock in what he called "unintelligible mumbo-jumbo", although her mother had been very adept in crystal gazing, or so she had been told.

"A few of them do go to her for a reading," Louella replied, "mostly the older ones. She is rumoured to be very good at what she does."

They went back to the muggle side of the store and paid for the cloak. Harry glanced at the stairs that would lead to the second floor as they were about to exit the shop. Something told him to go up there, almost like a gut feeling. But two years with Trelawney had made him lose faith in Seers, even if she had given one true prophecy in his third year. In the end, he left without paying the acclaimed Seer a visit.

The sky had turned dark. Since they had already visited the stationery to buy Louella's stack of parchments, they walked towards the park. The two teens felt a slight chill in the air although it was still early August. Louella frowned up at the sky, dark grey clouds had begun gathering, shielding them from the last warm rays of the setting sun.

"Is it just me, or do you feel the cold too?" Harry asked his friend.

"No, it is cold." Louella shook her head, instinctively moving towards Harry to share body warmth. "Odd. It is never so cold in August."

 _That_ somehow sent chills down Harry's spine.

_It is never so cold…_

Unnatural coldness. The slight uneasiness creeping over them. A stirring of dread.

When they reached the park, it was nearly empty. The last few children playing in the sandbox were being led away by their parents. The muggles too had noticed the sudden weather change.

It was completely dark now. And Harry had finally realised what those feelings meant. He also knew that they would not be the only ones that would assault him. Soon, something more dreadful would follow.

Harry took the brown package from Louella's hands and put them into the bag that contained his cloak.

"Umm…thanks Harry, but I can carry one stack of parchment on my own," Louella said, surprised at his action.

"I think we should head back to your house," Harry said instead, ignoring her statement; his eyes darted around, searching for something that clearly wasn't there.

"Yes," she agreed. "It is growing cold." She put her arms around her in an attempt to keep herself warm.

Harry nodded and once again surprised her by taking hold of her hand, "What are you –?"

"Be ready to run," he interrupted her.

She paused. She did not understand what was wrong with him. Yes, the sudden change in temperature was strange, but why would they need to run? He must have seen the confusion on her face, but his answer was still cryptic.

"I have a feeling…not totally sure, but," he hesitated, "something is coming our way. Something evil."

* * *

_(A few hours earlier)_

Short, clipped footsteps echoed down the silent hallway. It was empty as ever. The Ministry holding cells never housed anyone. A couple of people at times, when they would portkey into the Ministry, unauthorised. But those were always sorted out quickly. So yes, it did not house anyone. Except Dementors.

There would always be a handful of them present at the Ministry in case they were needed for a sudden trial or for the Minister's use; case in point – Ending of the Triwizard Tournament, Barty Crouch Jr.'s execution . This was why Dolores Jane Umbridge found it perfectly reasonable to use the Dementors to carry out this particular job. After all, she was making sure justice was served.

Everyone kept complaining about the Potter boy and the fear that had spread because of his dreadful lies about the Dark Lord's return. She would not sit back and just complain. She would actively do something about it. She considered herself to be a woman of her word and she had promised the Minister that she would take care of the Potter problem.

A cat patronus swirled into existence as she neared the Dementors.

"You are required to carry out an execution," she began in her usual pompous tone, "The person in question has been spreading lies and creating discord within the Ministry. He threatens our peaceful existence and wishes to bring about unrest in society. As guardians of the Azkaban Prison –"

Why she felt the need to give a long speech to the Dementors of all people…er, creatures, was certainly a mystery. The creatures clearly didn't care for her fancy words. But comforted in the presence of her patronus, she went on for a long while before giving the name of the person the Dementors were supposed to execute.

"Hunt down Harry Potter," Umbridge ordered.

One was not required to give them an address; they could seek out people with only a name. Technically, it was not the name they could recognise when Umbridge spoke of him, but the memories that the name evoked within her.

Earlier that day, Umbridge had requested the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, to part with his memories of his meetings with Harry Potter. She had viewed them in the Ministry pensieve, supposedly to get a better understanding of his character as she told Cornelius.

The Dementors absorbed the memories of Harry Potter. As luck would have it, these Dementors were a part of the group that had been sent to guard Hogwarts two years ago. The Dementors easily recognised Harry Potter as one of the students; and having already gotten close to him on two separate occasions last time, they would have an easy time tracking him down.

Besides, they had unfinished business with him. His soul had escaped their clutches twice. It would not happen a third time. They were also quite anxious to know how his soul might taste. They had never seen one like his before.

After all, how many people housed _two_ souls within one body?

* * *

Harry and Louella had begun their walk back home, hands tightly held. She was waiting for the signal Harry would give her to begin running. He still refused to tell her what was wrong and her mind had begun dreaming up wild theories. She had tried to list the number of 'evil' beings that would make one feel cold, but could come up with nothing.

Harry kept his ears strained for them, seeing as he would hear them before he would see them. The cold was making his hands clammy and had fogged up his glasses slightly. Soon, it was cold enough to see the air they breathed out and he knew they were near.

And then their vision was cut off. The night sky stars which just begun twinkling at them were obscured in black. The street lamps had seemingly flickered out, leaving them unable to see anything.

Louella gave a surprised gasp, "W-what's going on?"

"Dementors," Harry breathed.

He felt it now, he heard it now. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a woman screamed.

Louella whimpered, she couldn't see anything. The sky was pitch black and no matter how much her pupils dilated they could capture no light. She was practically blind.

Harry cursed.

"What is it?" Louella asked as she squeezed his hand tighter.

They were frozen in one spot. With their vision impaired, they couldn't go further.

"It is coming from ahead! It is in front of us!"

"What! How will we go home then?"

"Run!" Harry tugged at her hand and started pulling them backwards.

 _'Run? Where? They couldn't see where they were going!'_ Louella started running blindly, now glad that they were holding hands. If they hadn't been she would have surely lost him in this darkness.

Despair was creeping up on her. Her legs stopped moving and she could feel Harry pulling her along as sadness overwhelmed her. Then he abruptly stopped. She was about to ask him why when she heard it. A memory had suddenly resurfaced in her mind…

_Louella? The headmistress has called for you…I'm sorry but we have bad news…your father is dead…No! NO!_

"No!" she screamed out loud.

She pulled her hand from Harry's grasp and put them over her ears, trying to block out the voices inside her head. She shook her head desperately; her father's death was still so fresh in her mind, she did not want relive it again! Was this what a Dementor did? Bring out her worst memories?

She wanted to get away from it, run away from this monster! She did not know from where her legs found the strength to support her, but as soon as she stood up she started running.

"Louella! Wait! Stop! You're running right at it!" Harry called out to her.

Running right at it? Hadn't she tried to run away from it? Oh no, they were being closed in by them from both sides! There were more than one. She stumbled back when she felt something ghost over her.

"KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!"

Harry's voice carried over to her and she clamped her mouth shut tightly. She didn't have any experience with this beast and did not know what might happen. Her mind had gone blank with shock and her fingers were too numb to pull out her wand from her sleeve. Besides, what good could a wand do against something she could not see? What spell could affect it? She certainly did not know.

Harry could feel a chilling presence behind him as he pulled out his wand. He tried to think of something happy, something that would create a Patronus. But all he could feel was despair. He shouted at Louella to stop when she began running away from him and right towards the approaching beast. Hoping that she followed his instruction to keep her mouth shut, he tried to make the spell work.

" _Expecto…Patronum_. Come on!" he muttered urging his magic to respond, " _Expecto Patronum!_ Work, dammit!"

He heard the cold, rattling breath of the dementor in front of him and he stumbled backwards. Now that it was up close, his vision had returned just enough to see it. A towering, hooded figure was gliding smoothly toward him, hovering over the ground, no feet or face visible beneath its robes, sucking on the night air as it came.

Harry raised his wand once more, " _Expecto Patronum!"_

A silvery mist shot out of his wand and the dementor slowed; but the spell hadn't worked properly…He tripped over his feet as he moved backward, trying to get away from it. He looked around if he could see Louella, hoping for some help – but it was still dark. The Dementors' magic had cloaked the whole street in darkness. He could hear her whimpering though, and knew that he was alone in this.

Louella had never encountered Dementors before, so it was up to Harry to fight them off. But even as he thought about it, he couldn't move when the Dementor reached for him. A pair of gray, slimy, scabbed hands slid from inside the Dementor's robes and made as if to hold him. The voices inside his head were growing louder and his own attempts to bring out his Patronus were futile.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " His voice sounded dim and distant to him and the spell failed. _He_ had failed. He couldn't do it anymore…

The Dementor bent its head forward and leaned over him, its putrid breath ghosted over his lips. Harry closed his eyes, giving up. He couldn't produce a happy enough memory to save them. As if mocking him, Voldemort's voice echoed in his mind –

_Bow to death, Harry...It might even be painless…I would not know… I have never died…_

_'It is over'_ , Harry thought, ' _and I will never see Ron and Hermione again…'_

And their faces burst forth clearly into his mind, providing him with renewed hope and strength. His eyes snapped open as he shouted out, one last time –

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ "

Prongs burst out of his wand in all his silver glory and charged at the Dementor holding Harry. As the Dementor was pushed away from him, Harry turned his wand towards Louella. The light of the patronus had driven away the darkness and he could clearly see her now. She had sat down on the street, her face buried in her knees, following his instructions and keeping her mouth away from the Dementor looming over her.

"This way, Prongs!"

The stag tossed its head back proudly before charging at the second Dementor. Its antlers caught it and it was thrown away into the night. Seeing the guardian, the Dementors fled and the moon, stars and street lamps burst back into life.

The two teens took a moment to regain their bearings. Prongs had not faded away yet, standing guard in case of any approaching danger. Louella had got back on her feet, smoothing her dress down and brushing off the dust on it. Her face was pale and she was clearly in slight shock, but she was holding up admirably after her close encounter with a Dementor.

"Let's go home," her voice wavered slightly as she said it.

Harry nodded and picked up their fallen bag. He let his patronus dissolve into the air but kept his wand out. Louella saw it and brought out her own wand. She clutched his arm tightly as they walked back, hoping that there were no other surprises waiting for them.

* * *

Skippy opened the door for them and started fussing over them. Taking their bag and depositing it on the centre table, the elf led them to the sofa near the fireplace and draped thick blankets over both of them.

"Skippy was so worried about Mistress and her friend! Something very bad was in town! Skippy could feel it from her kitchen!"

Harry and Louella gratefully accepted the blankets but refused the warm soup that was brought to them. After their adventure, they had no appetite. They felt tired and drained from it. It was a while later that Skippy popped into the room with a letter.

"A letter for Mistress' guest!" Skippy handed it to Harry. "The owl couldn't enter the house Mistress, so Skippy brought it herself!"

Louella nodded at her and then looked at the wall clock. "Very well. Also set the table for dinner. We will come soon."

"Thank you," Harry added before she popped away. That certainly surprised the elf for a moment.

He tore open the letter and read it. The first thing that came to mind after he finished was not ' _The Ministry expelled me from Hogwarts!'_ but _'How did they know that I had done the magic?'_ He asked Louella about it.

"We are in a magical town! Anyone could have said the spell! How did they know it was me?"

Louella shook her head as she read over his shoulder, "I don't know, but one thing's for sure. They can't enter the house, just like the owl couldn't. There are wards all over it for protection. No ministry representative can come here to snap your wand at least."

That put Harry's mind to rest for now. He did not want to lose his wand; besides, if he _hadn't_ cast the spell, there would have been no use for his wand either. A soulless wizard wouldn't be coherent enough to perform spells, now would he?

"Parchment," Harry said suddenly. "I need to write a letter." He turned to his new-old friend. "I must go write a letter, I'll be back down soon."

Reluctant to be left alone, Louella pulled him back to the sofa. She pulled out a spare parchment from a side table and brought over a quill and ink well.

"I don't want to be left alone after those Dementors today." Louella handed him the materials. "Write it here if it is urgent and I'll tell Skippy to give it to one of the owls."

Harry nodded, he too would not fancy being alone in this vast mansion-like house after a scary ordeal. He could also tell that she was curious as to whom he was writing to.

"It's to Ron and Hermione, my school friends," Harry explained as he dipped the quill into the ink.

Louella felt a twinge of jealousy at that. She knew she wouldn't rush to write to her school friends after facing a Dementor; they were not that close for her to do so. Watching Harry write to his friends made her want for someone she could confide in too. Five years ago, it would have been Harry, but now?

As Harry folded the parchment, she made to call for her elf, but Harry shook his head.

"An owl would take too long, I have a better way," he said. Then raising his voice slightly, he called out, "Dobby!"

Louella watched as the elf popped into her Family Manor, bypassing the wards as if they didn't exist.

"Harry Potter sir calls for Dobby?" The elf asked cheerfully and accepted the letter that was handed to him.

"Is that your elf?" Louella asked before Harry could tell Dobby what to do.

The elf looked indignant as she talked about him as if he wasn't there. Harry shook his head. "He is a free elf. He belongs to himself."

Her eyes widened. "That's impossible! How could a free elf enter this house? If he was your elf, he would be granted access by default. But if he is free…does that mean there's a problem in the wards…"

She was talking to herself now and Harry frowned. "I think you're making this a big deal. There's probably nothing wrong with your wards. And well, Dobby is mine in a way. He is my elf friend. That could be the reason why he can enter."

The strangely dressed elf beamed when Harry called him his friend, but Louella just shook her head. _'An elf friend? Who makes friends with elves?'_ But this was Harry she was talking about. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the youngest champion of the Triwizard Tournament, someone who was able to successfully cast the Patronus charm (she still didn't about its specifics) and who had a huge, black beast of a dog. What was one more odd friend?

"You really have interesting friends, Harry," she said, glancing at Dobby, who was now assuring him that he would take this letter to his friend immediately.

* * *

The children at Grimmauld Place had already heard of Harry's use of underage magic when Arthur Weasley had rushed out of the fireplace screaming at Dumbledore about Dementors and Patronuses. That had sent everyone into a frenzy.

Snape had assured them that it was not Voldemort's doing: _'He doesn't have them under control, yet'_ , and Arthur hadn't waited for any further explanations as he jumped back into the fire, heading for the Ministry with Dumbledore right behind him.

Sirius had had jumped out of his chair at the mention of those vile creatures and tried to instinctive follow them before remembering that he was a wanted man. The Aurors and other Ministry personnel had also left, hoping they could find out what happened by asking around in their respective departments. The other remaining Order members, many of whom had come from foreign countries in order to help as a favour to Dumbledore, also left to take care of their assigned tasks.

"Sirius," one of them said, "I will be returning to Switzerland. The information that the Order requires cannot be found here. I will return in a few days."

Sirius nodded at him, "Very well, Balthasar. And about your sister – ?"

"I will try to convince her to join the fight," Balthasar gave a small smile. "You did help us all those years ago, and now we will return the favour. She is reluctant, and correctly so, as she has to take care of our ailing mother."

Sirius nodded understandingly. As the other members moved out of the house one by one through the fireplace to carry out their assigned jobs, he told Balthasar, "I will willingly provide house room for the both of you should she choose to come."

Snape meanwhile had reached a startling conclusion. Potter had been attacked by Dementors. There was no way they could have entered the house, so that means he would have to be out. If he had gone out, Louella must have too. His niece! What about her?

Just then Ron and Hermione ran into the room. "Harry just sent us a letter! He says they're safe!"

Granger's loud and bossy voice had mellowed over the years, but it still wasn't pleasant to listen to. But now, as she rushed into the room, waving around a piece of parchment, declaring that 'they' were safe, he couldn't be more relieved at her words. They were safe. His niece was safe.

"They?" Molly asked curiously, "Who's 'they'?"

Remus had plucked the letter out Hermione's hand and started reading it. Severus found himself drifting over to him subconsciously to read over the werewolf's shoulder. At the Weasley matriarch's question Sirius snapped his head up from the letter that the three older wizards were reading.

"They? Er…" Ron stuttered before catching Sirius's eye.

Snape did not want many people to know about his niece. If word somehow got to Voldemort, he might want her to join the Death Eaters after coming of age. He was about to interrupt before the Weasley boy bungled it up too much, when he noticed Black shake his head discreetly.

"Oh…er, Harry and Hedwig," Ron continued quickly. "He always refers to his owl as a person, Mum. Both of them are safe and sound."

Hermione let out a relieved sigh as Mrs Weasley frowned. "Oh poor Hedwig. I hope the Dementors didn't have a great effect on her. Harry's very fond of her –"

Snape tuned the rest of her words out. What surprised him was Black's action. He narrowed his eyes and thought about questioning him when the fire flared again. Dumbledore had returned.

 _'That was quick,'_ thought Snape, before he said, "Albus, I am returning home."

Albus knew about Louella and understanding that he would be concerned for his niece, bid him goodbye.

"Sirius, I need to have a word with you," Albus said as Snape left the house. They moved out of the sitting room as they talked.

"I think we will have to risk a visit to Gringotts."

"Gringotts?" Sirius asked, a little confused as to why Dumbledore might want to visit the bank and also why he would tell this to _him_. Then understanding what he meant, he said, "For Harry to claim his Heir rings? But, isn't moving in the open dangerous, especially since any funny business cannot be blamed on Voldemort since the Ministry is ignoring his return?"

"Yes, but the rings possess ancient magic, woven into them years ago and still hold strong. They will prove to be a protection for Harry."

"When?" asked Sirius after thinking about it for a moment.

"Before Harry's disciplinary hearing." Seeing Sirius' expression, Albus shook his head. "No, I couldn't get them to clear him off completely. He still has to attend the hearing. It will be held on the twelfth of this month. I'm sure Harry will already be informed of this by now."

"Alright," Sirius agreed. "Any particular reason, why?"

"I do not trust Cornelius or that Undersecretary of his, Dolores Umbridge. They might want to – ah – tweak the arrangements for his hearing. I want to be prepared if that happens."

Sirius nodded. "I will tell Harry of what he can expect then, ready him for it."

Albus hummed happily. "Good, good. And that reminds me –" He took out an envelope from his robe pocket and handed it to Sirius, "– give this to Miss Prince for me, will you? She will be studying at Hogwarts this year."

Sirius stared at him blankly for a moment before reaching out to take it. "I'm a dog, Albus. I can't go to her and hand her, her acceptance letter. Unless you want me to reveal my identity to her…"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as if he knew something that others didn't. "Oh, I did not mean anything. Revealing your animagus form to her is to be your decision. If you can trust her to keep a secret, you may tell her about it. Oh, and do tell Severus to accompany you to Gringotts, I'm sure Miss Prince has to claim her ring too. It would save time if both of you went together."

Sirius sighed; for how long would he have to endure Snape's company? _'_

 _For Harry, it's for Harry.'_ Sirius chanted silently. ' _Don't want Snape to kick both Harry and me out of his house because I hurt the git.'_

"I'll leave now, then," Sirius put the envelope in his pocket. "Make the Portkey something I can hold on to."

Albus pulled out a quill from his pocket and transfigured it into a chewy bone, before turning it into a Portkey. _"Portus."_

Padfoot clutched the chew toy in his mouth and seconds later, disappeared from the house.

Albus pulled out a thick form from his pocket and turned to the last page. It was Louella Prince's application form. A magical oath printed on the first page of the form that affirmed that any and all personal information written on it would stay confidential was what allowed the students to be free while they filled it out. The personal information they shared helped the Headmaster / Headmistress to check up on the students' background to see if they would be a good addition to their school.

The questions set by the headmaster were for that purpose. However, Dumbledore, being nosier than his predecessors, had inserted a few personal questions between some random questions that seemed pointless; a prime example would be: _How many times do you brush your hair in a day?_

Where he had asked the applicant to list all their previous residences, he had been surprised to see Little Whinging, Surrey listed on it. He was even more surprised when she had written about a boy called Harry, who was her childhood friend when she lived in Surrey, in response to a question about describing her closest friend.

Connecting the dots, Dumbledore had realised that young Mr Potter and the newly admitted Hogwarts student, Miss Prince used to be childhood friends. He had known he was subjecting Harry to a harsh childhood when he had left him at his aunt's house fourteen years ago. And he was glad to know that he had had at least one friend during those magic deprived years.

Albus chuckled slightly when something occurred to him. He was not ashamed to admit that he dearly wanted to see Severus' reaction when he found out that his niece was a friend of Harry Potter. Hopefully it would make him reconsider his views about the boy. Hopefully.

Ah well, he couldn't think about it all night. Tucking the form back into his pocket, he flooed to Hogwarts and the huge pile of paperwork that awaited him.

"Hmm, I wonder if I can get away with the old muggle excuse. What was it? Ah, 'my dog ate my homework'! Now, if only Fawkes was willing to play along…"


End file.
